


Two Sides of the Knife

by skyoflemon



Category: Halloween Movies - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Horror, Blood and Violence, Childhood Trauma, F/M, Fluff, Murder, Patient therapy, Psychological Drama, Survival Horror, rootbeer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-29 09:33:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 98,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12628062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyoflemon/pseuds/skyoflemon
Summary: "Someday I do believe we will conquer our own psychotic features. Maybe even some of our patients here will. Some of it is biology isn't it? And it could have been us on the other side of the door? Maybe it should be. We may not be able to cure Michael Myers, but I hope that you can prevent the next one." T for violence/gore (hopefully) [Michael/Sammy stuff]





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> This may be the most overthought and under delivered/performed slasher movie fan-fic out there. That being said and read, I've probably already scared off most of those would have read it. I think we're off to a good start! Now, I've watched F13th, NES, IT and a bunch of others but I realized I had never watched 'Halloween' so I gave it a go. The result? A writing prompt of 'What if….'
> 
> AU big time set between 2001 and 2016 I believe. Gender swap for Loomis and some crazy ooc for Michael Myers. It has a little of the original 1978 and some ideas from Robert Zombinski's remake. Does it work? I don't know.
> 
> Fluff Warning: There's gonna be some stuff between Myers and Loomis...
> 
> Another take on this classic story! Thanks for trying it out!
> 
> Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. All original characters and plot are the property of the author. No copyright infringement is intended.

What happened? Sometimes the past is as deep and tangled as the woods behind your house. It stares at you with midnight in its hollows and fear creeping along dead and forgotten paths. You can keep your secrets there, swallowed up in confusion and guilt; buried under molting leaves of silver. Sometimes you can remember what it looked like in the sunlight when it was warm and two sets of footprints formed together. Then there was only one, pigeon toed, scared and miserable. But the woods were still there, yawning wide to devour what sacrifices would be offered. That is what happened.

How long he had sat there it didn't matter. No one was at home. They wouldn't call until tonight when his mother was home and then he would be quietly scolded and denied his video game privileges. With scratched and dirty fingers he reached to trace the letters in the stone: M-I-C-H-A-E-L M-Y-E-R-S. Long blond hair fell forward into his face as he sniffed irritably at the threatening tears. He tried to block the memories of the woods with his anger and his blame. Tried not to let the tender feelings of safety, trust and love weaken him. He would bludgeon them, slash them so that they could never make him feel abandoned and alone again.

"You shouldn't have left Dad. You shouldn't have ever left." he said through clenched teeth.

Sharp, crystal grey eyes belted by agonizing black blue never left the granite while he grabbed for the wooden handled pocket knife that he kept in his sock. Opening it he started to gouge and dig at the headstone in front of him. The dappled surface sustained only small scratches and chips, most were old.

"Michael, you freak." The amused voice came behind him and smothered his anger with humiliation.

Swinging his head around he saw her standing there with her arms folded condescendingly and shaking her head in mock pity.

"Go away J..." he braved to speak but she closed the small distance between them and kicked at his hand, stomping on it until he dropped the knife and put a hand out protectively. The other hand went for the cheery colored plastic, clown's face mask that sat next to him.

With a final grind of her heel, she smashed the mask, leaving a punctured hole through its cheek.

Moving the freshly curled ringlets that had escaped her high ponytail she scoffed, "He left because of you you puffy-faced baby. He couldn't stand how dumb you were. You embarrassed him all the time you know. That's why he always took you to the woods and no where in public. I think he really tried but to have a fat, stupid, retarded kid like you, anyone would have left."

The words hurt more than where she had kicked him. When he tried to swallow it felt raw and sore but he narrowed his eyes at her and growled, "Shut up..."

"No, you shut up Michael!" She interrupted him, "Do the world a favor and never talk again! In fact why don't you go disappear..."

He went to grab for his knife but she kicked him again in the ear and he recoiled sharply at the pain.

"Seriously pathetic Michael Myers. Oh by the way, mom wants you to come home. She got a call at work from the school. You're dead meat."

Michael could hear her footsteps brushing through the freshly mowed grass as she left and he bit at his lip until he tasted the mineral blood tinge his tongue. "I hate you Judith." He whispered to himself.

It hadn't been a year since his father had passed. It was on his ninth birthday and his mother had set up a Circus themed party for him. There was a clown who made animal balloons, an elephant cake and tickets for prizes like a kazoo or a goldfish. When nobody came, his mother kept saying she was sure they were just late and tried to hide her hurt and disappointment. Michael didn't care so much himself, he ate the candy peanuts and let Boo, his four year old little sister, rub a balloon on his head until his hair stood on end. Wearing a clown mask he had found in the favor basket, he watched his mother cut the cake with her kitchen knife forcefully. He just wanted his father to come home. They were supposed to go camping and his present that year had been the pocket knife, his name inscribed in had always been proud of being named after his father.

He must have waited at the window for his car to pull into the driveway for almost an hour before the phone rang and his mother sank to the floor screaming hysterically. There had been an accident and his father had perished. He had been called out of town by his job and was on his way to the airport. Michael couldn't understand why he had been going there, he was supposed to be coming home! It would have never happened if he had come home like he'd promised.

The counselor at school called it 'juvenile bereavement', his disassociative behavior and the mask, it was all perfectly normal. His grades would recover in time as he dealt with his grief. When things didn't change, they had him talk to a psychologist who was supposed to 'help' him. But they would try to make him talk about his father which felt like prodding a heinous monster inside tearing at his chest with cruel claws and he couldn't respond. It hurt too much.

He had always been quiet and kept to himself. A boy who he had known since kindergarten, Wesley, quit coming over and would ignore him at school. Then they told him he couldn't play soccer with them or ask each other what smelled so awful when he would sit by them in class. Everyone would laugh. Wesley would bring peanut butter M&M's and give them to everyone but Michael. Then it got worse. They hid his shoes or swapped his back pack for a glittery pink one from the lost and found. Once they chased him and held him down on the playground, shoving mud in his underwear and telling everyone he'd messed himself. Then he'd put on the mask even though the teachers told him he couldn't wear it at school. It separated him from the humiliation and the sour looks and the rejection.

At home things were different too. His mother had taken a job at a bar to pay for their bills. She worked afternoons and evenings until late, so he never saw her accept in the hussle of the mornings. She was different, sad and bitter; she yelled a lot. Their babysitter would promptly drop off Boo, Angel was her real name, and Judith was supposed to be there to watch them. But she hardly ever was. She went to high school and stayed out with her friends. Michael was glad when she did or when she stayed in her room. The two of them had never gotten along. Judith and he didn't have the same dad. His mother had her in high school. To get a rise out of Michael Judith would say horrible things about his dad and he would lose control and run for her. She was bigger and stronger and would hit him or push him back.

"I hate you Judith! I'm going to kill you!" He'd scream at her through the slit of the clown's augmented smile. Angel would cry and Judith would laugh.

His older sister started to bring home a boy named Steven and Judith would taunt Michael, telling Steven he was a loner and a psycho. With a weasel-faced grin, Steven would agree and join in. While Michael fed Angel, Steven told him he'd make a great mother in a dress and they would force him into his mother's clothes and stuff rolled socks into the chest area. Michael tried to fight them at first earning him only bruises. He couldn't stop the two of them so he stared. He burned them with his piercing glare, taking care to note each offence for revenge in the future, when he was big enough.

One day he told his mother what Judith had been doing, taking Steven upstairs and about the strange, chemical smell that would come from under the door. That they would be in there hours. Judith did get into trouble; no allowance and grounded, but this made life much worse for Michael.

When his mother found his pet rat dead, cut up and mutilated she tried to brush it off and promised him a new one. That one suffered as well. Other animals were found in the yard, all in gruesome states. One time with his knife found nearby. It made his mother cry and she began to look at him strangely sometimes. With disgust and distance in her eyes. Boo didn't though, he could trust Boo.

But his Mother stopped trusting him with Angel after finding him carrying her in the middle of a busy road at a city park.

"What is wrong with you Michael!?" She cried hysterically. He didn't know, he couldn't explain it.

Halloween was coming and Michael loved Halloween. At school, they promised a plastic pumpkin full of candy to the person who could donate the most books to the school library. Every day Michael looked at the pumpkin prize in the office window, knowing he had hardly any books at home to bring. It wasn't fair and the resentment built up like heavy sand, weighing his already languishing spirit down further.

One day at recess he went into the office when no one was looking and took it then ran for the woods that bordered the playground. In the thicket he slid the mask up on top of his head and sat to eat the candy greedily.

"Hey Mike-o the psycho!" It was Wesley.

Michael said nothing but pushed the pumpkin behind his back in a lame effort to hide it. It made Wesley laugh.

"You stole it!? Oh man I'm going to tell on you. They're going to lock you up!" threatened the boy.

For some reason this sent a chill from between his shoulder blades up his neck and to his jaw.

"Don't." he said with small voice.

Wesley picked up a stick and swung it fast, just in front of Michael's face, "Got to. Are you going to run home doll face?"

For a moment Michael thought of it. No. He didn't want to run anymore. He wanted to try being the one who chased and hurt for once. Standing up he lowered the laughing clown's face and lunged at Wesley who hesitated, caught in surprise but he brought up the stick again, hitting Michael in the side of his head. The pain sent fire rushing through him and Michael stumbled backward. But instead of pathetically cowering or retreating he loved it. He came again, the stick hitting him but this time it didn't stop him.

He knocked the stick away and tackled Wesley, pushing him backwards over a fallen tree trunk. In the crackling leaves he began to swing his fists. Over and over again, Wesley's pleads to stop driving him all the more. He would hit him for all the things he had ever done to him, he would hit him for Judith and he would hit him for his father dying. Soon there was blood gushing from Wesley's nose and mouth as the boy burbled and coughed. Michael froze looking at the warm, sticky red that coated his knuckles. Suddenly he stood and turned around and walked away.

Wesley died. They found his body later that day. The fire trucks and police cars had all the children lined up at the windows, all but Michael.

Then they called him to the office where he sat and waited for his mother. The women all whispered and stole disturbed gances at him from their desks. He had taken off his hoodie and there was blood all over his shirt and up his sleeves, he did not try to hide it. They had taken his mask away.

But Wesley had died of an allergic reaction from a bee stings. There was a hive in the old log that they had disturbed and Wesley had been unable to get up for help. So, in a way, Michael had killed him.

From then on, it was always him and always them. The other kids and even the adults. Looking at him with abhorrence and even fear. And, despite a twinge of some dying need to be accepted, he finally acknowledged that he craved it. The fear.

His mother yelled at him, she pleaded with him, she cried and cried. He told her he was sorry.

A man came to the house for his mother, his name was Ronnie. Michael didn't like him. It was worse than having Steven over. He would tell Michael to take his mask off and to do other things like he had authority to do so. He told Michael's mother that Michael had problems and needed discipline. And he did strap Michael, pants down right in front of Judith and Steve. His mother said nothing. But he didn't want to cry and no tears came this time, he just waited numbly, letting it happen.

On another Halloween he took Boo trick or treating. His sister was supposed to take them but she had made other plans with Steve. His mother went to work and when Michael realized no one cared enough to take them, he led his little sister out the door, holding her candy basket because she had her favorite toy bunny in hand.

He dressed as a clown, the mask and a ballooning silk jumpsuit. Angel was of course an angel, as she had been every year with some tweek to it. An angel princess, and angel kitty cat, an angel fairy, this year it was an angel pilot fish. Kids in other costumes moved aside for him now but he caught their hushed words: crazy, freak, murderer.

As the town anathema, he found if he stayed in the shadows of the yard and sent Angel, she'd get twice as much candy than if he were there to make the distributor nervous.

As he waited he watched, not just 'them'-everyone else, he watched the leaves roll in a throng, flipping over end to end making the ground look alive. Sometimes the wind would stir it up into a twisting, chattering cyclone. They stayed out late, only to return home when Angel began to complain of the cold. Michael never was cold.

At home Ronnie chided them lazily from the couch for being too loud and waking him up. He hadn't even noticed they'd left the house.

Michael put Angel into pajamas and checked to see Ronnie asleep again, head flung back and snoring. Then he watched halloween cartoons and ate candy with Boo until she drifted off to sleep. He could hear Judith upstairs, she and Steve yelling and screaming at each over something. With chocolate smudging his fingers, he turned up the volume on the television, switching it to a horror movie. Soon his mother came home looking tired and sick. The hollows of her cheeks sunken in like a skeleton and her hair stringy and hanging in her face. In his mind he painted jack-o-lantern eyes and a bowing, semi-toothed smile on her face and started laughing.

Shaking her head, she came and picked up Boo, "Don't stay up late. And don't watch anything gross. -Oh, and don't eat too much candy." she carried the little girl upstairs.

He could hear his mother yelling at Judith to keep her voice down and he turned up the volume on the TV again. Ronnie could sleep through anything.

Later the police came to find Michael at the top of the stairs holding Boo. Blood covered his hands and smudged up his arms, splattered his clothes and his mask. Around him on the ground lay his mother, Judith and Steven draining and still. Ronnie was where he had been all evening, but he was dead also.

Michael held in his free hand a long, blood-wet kitchen blade.

Boo simply looked from Michael to the shocked officers and said, "Michael did it."

And he admitted it. There was no reason not to. The world was of little bother to him now, there was no changing it and his numbed mind had rooted out any sense of sorrow in his heart.

He lived in a small, closet like cell for months. It took a team of lawyers to plead not guilty for him despite the fact that he continuously confessed. They told him to keep his mouth shut. They said Judith hadn't died, her wound was a shallow one. She vowed wouldn't be in the same room with him ever again but gave a written testimony. Little Boo sat the stand. She pointed at him with a sweet, childish innocence and said, "Michael did it!" She smiled at him and he smiled back at her.

So he was given a verdict of guilty and evaluated as unable to serve his adult attuned life sentence in a juvenile detention center or prison. He was obviously deranged, and dangerous so was sent to a secure mental hospital.

Again they had swarms of psychologists, psychiatrists and case workers interview him and 'work' with him as he separated himself behind masks that he would make in the stretching spaces of time alone. A nurse died one day and they sent him away. To Smith's Grove Sanitarium. It was a place they put people who couldn't be helped and the future held nothing for them. Little publicity or even acknowledgement kept the facility humble, aloof and drab. For policy and formality reasons he was interviewed periodically by a staff shrink who would prescribe him pills they would force him to take until he was too big to force. Here Michael grew up.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. All original characters and plot are the property of the author. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> Just really quick cause I don't want to overload with A/N's, this is my first time posting on this site so I may do some goofy formatting stuff!   
> I'm one of those who believe that the Original Halloween was un-improvable. Got it right the first time. This story is in no way trying to 'fix' anything but just your normal 'can't get this idea out of my head 20 chapters worth'. A lot of this is from Loomis' pov but there's a lot of switches...
> 
> Oh yeah, this is complete I just have to upload the chapters so probably do a few per day if I don't get a chance to do all at once.
> 
> Again thanks for reading and Happy Halloween.

The jagged branches of the oaks spread out over the narrow four lane road, shading it. It was a brand new road of black asphalt striped with brand new bleach white and hot yellow. The lines could trick the eyes, looking like they moved with the Honda Civic that rolled down it at excessive speed.

There were mostly fields if not woods and the few houses or buildings were staggered in the rural locality. A low, grey metal sign sat a ways off the road with a tall chain-linked fence behind it crowned with large looped razor wire that coiled along its top. The sign said 'Smith's Grove Sanitarium' in etched letters, the sheet of metal looked like it had been salvaged from something else, stenciled lettering behind it looked as though someone had tried to buff it out. New inscriptions had been written in marker or spray paint and then scrubbed at. 'Rubber sniffers', 'Kooks', 'psycho's inside' and 'euthanize us please' looked to be the newest and still legible.

There was a turn off here and then a straight road going into the compound. Two security checks with large gates to be passed then the buildings themselves came into view. Squatty, square in its 1970's design, a rough combination of red brick and concrete, it had small windows stained with hard water from the sprinkler system.

The little car was directed into the small 'visitor's' parking lot and the black honda eased into a spot. The young woman inside peered out of her window at the building curiously then gathered her phone and purse and got out.

Summer still kept the Illinois air warm and humid and she wore a long, plaid pencil skirt and a plain, v-necked white t-shirt. Pale blond hair ran with honey and even light brown currents, pulled back tightly in a slick ponytail away from her face and hanging halfway down her back. Lifting her chin confidently she walked for the entrance where two men dressed in faded navy scrubs were just exiting. One held the door for her politely and she nodded and gave her thanks as she entered.

The reception area was small and looked like it hadn't been redecorated since the mid 90's. Painted in calming greys and blues, a couch and a few minimally upholstered sitting chairs lined the walls, bookended by potted, fake, small trees with dust on their leaves. Pictures of light-faded landscapes may have been here since the building had been built; dull oceans, bleached mountains and flowers. Someone had a scent plug-in that must have been called 'island breeze' filling the air with an overpowering fragrance. The room was completely contained but for two other doors. One had the universal bathroom symbols, the other looked much heavier. It was steel plated with a small, reinforced Plexiglas window and boasted a large lock guard. Next to the door was a reception counter and an older woman who had been staring at her since she entered.

The younger woman walked over with a reserved smile, "Good morning. I'm Samantha Loomis. I'm here to speak to Dr. Klein. He should be expecting me." she said with an upper class British accent.

She hardly ever went by 'Samantha' but would wait to forgo the formality.

The woman's reactionary smile was limp at best but she nodded, "Of course, I'll just call him."

She picked up an office phone and relayed the message then asked her to have a seat in the sitting area.

After about 10 minutes Samantha was about to inquire again when there was a weighty shifting of bolts and the armored door was opened for a man of maybe fifty who glanced about the empty room until he saw Samantha.

"Thank you Laurel." He mumbled to the receptionist as he walked out to meet the girl who had stood up hastily.

Jutting out her hand enthusiastically, Samantha smiled at him brightly, "Dr. Klein. So nice to meet you."

In the glare of the florescent lighting, his skin seemed pale and there was perspiration at the receding line of his brown and grey hair.

He nodded and took her hand, "Thank you Miss...Loomis. You are a little early I see."

"Yes sir, it's my first time here and I didn't want to get lost." her reply drew a chuckle from the receptionist.

Clearing his throat, Dr. Klein glanced over at Laurel then motioned for Samantha to sit down and he did so also.

"Dr. Klein I am looking forward to working here with you sir. I have read much of your work and found it fascinating. This is the sort of institution I am hoping to place in after I complete my education…" Samantha gushed as the man, dressed in a peach button up shirt and black slacks leaned back in his seat considering her.

"This is your second year of clinical rotation for medical school?" he asked.

"Yes."

"And you requested to come here specifically?"

Again she smiled and nodded, "Yes sir. I was at Valley Central in Rockford for the last year."

"And you're considering going into forensic psychiatry?" Came the further inquiry.

Sitting on the edge of her chair, Samantha nodded, "Yes sir. I've always been interested in inmate patient therapy and rehabilitation. I'm hoping to attend Columbia or Kings College after medical school…"

Her energy was balanced by his calmness and he leaned back into the chair, extending a leg and putting his hand to his chin subconsciously, "But why come here? You could have stayed in Rockford and done court counciling or I know Heritage hospital in Chicago has an outreach program for reformatory medicine at the state penitentiary."

His deferring question caught her off guard but she kept her voice even, "Well, I have done some research and I very much wanted to be involved in the work you do here."

Now it was Klein who chuckled, "Just because you have a passion for geology doesn't mean you jump into an erupting volcano." His odd analogy made her pause, "This is a maximum security facility for severe and acute mental health cases of the justice system Miss Loomis. Our patients come from other penitentiary centers around the states that couldn't handle them. That's usually the way anyone ever learns of us, when there's nowhere else to go. I'm still puzzled how you even heard of us."  
Not knowing what to make of his repelling speech Samantha regrouped her thoughts. Was he trying to put her off? Scare her? She was still working her way through medical school and had 2 years before she could begin specializing in forensic psychology and neurology. Still she had worked with as many psychologists and psychiatrists as she could and she found they often used their training and expertise on everyone, even if they weren't conscious of it. Dr. Klein could be playing a mind game with her.

Bolstering up her posture she refused to be discouraged. "Smith's Grove was relayed to me by some of the best doctors I have come into contact with Dr. Klein. They said it was in a class of it's own for its undertaking." She started although now she began to remember their almost reverent tone and solemn faces as they had done so, "There is a lot of work to do here with the patients and I would very much like to be a part of it, help them all I can. I believe the mind is a highly tuned and complicated organ but I think it can still learn and heal."

The man's slate blue eyes seemed to search hers that hued golden and ombred to a reddish cognac around her pupil.

Sternly he emphasized, "You are here on a strictly medical clinical Miss Loomis. You are neither trained nor have the expertise to address or advise the patients in any psychological therapy whatsoever. Smith's Grove is more of a containment program, not a miracle center. We will try you, I reserve the right to request your reassignment at any time."

The emotions of anticipation and enthusiasm Samantha had been cultivating her whole journey here since she had been notified of her acceptance at Smith's Grove were now replaced with apprehension. The reality that these patients had committed crimes she was conscious of but she had convinced herself that they could be helped and she wanted to do what she could to further their progress. She had hoped to be able to witness and participate in the patients' mental rehabilitation despite the technicality of her only supposed to be there for physical treatment clinicals only.

"I understand." She said undeferred.

Standing up, Dr. Klein stretched his shoulders and waved for her to follow him.

"How old are you?" he asked off handedly.

"Oh, uh," her verbal lapse caused her to blush, "Twenty three."

"And already in medical school?" he sounded impressed now which was what she was used to.

She had worked hard in her academics, graduating from a private secondary school early and moving through her bachelors of science in a short three years. It wasn't the first time she had been questioned skeptically and maybe underestimated but she usually saw it as a challenge and soon would receive praise and constant encouragement from all her professors and superiors.

She decided Dr. Klein would be no different, "Yes sir, my third year. I am anxious to learn all I can and complete my studies."

"Ah yes, I remember the appetite." And he stopped at that as the receptionist buzzed them in through the door. A cool mint color flavored the walls, illuminated by the long florescent lights set in the false ceiling above they walked down a short hallway and through another door. A man in navy scrubs sat in a booth and again allowed them access.

The echoing click of her high heels pricked the air and Dr. Klein said, "Do you have any other shoes?"

She responded that she had and he nodded, "You'll want to wear something more comfortable and easier to move around in. It gets cold in here. You'll be issued the blue uniform you have seen and be considered staff."

It was a bit of a maze that they walked through, the doctor pointing out staff lounge, meeting rooms, filing and supply areas. He said he would assign someone to show her around the outside later today. At nearly every turn there were checkpoints and armored gates and doors.

Cameras hung from the ceilings and although she saw few regular dressed policemen or guards she had the feeling the large men in the scrubs were more than just orderlies.

The largest barricade separated them from a dead end with a wide elevator door. Klein explained that the inmates quarters and living spaces were in the floors below. Samantha realized he meant under the ground and she frowned at the thought of them being confined without outdoor access or even windows. What if there were an emergency? But something told her to wait to ask all of these questions until she gained some confidence with Klein.

They entered the elevator and fell one floor. Then Klein led her to a brightly lit, glass plated station that bent a corner. The main nurses station had a locked down pharmaceutical preparation area in the back. There she was introduced to two staff members, a old pharmacist and 'the house physician' they called her. The pharmacist was a thin elderly man with a sharp featured face and hunched shoulders who spoke with a low tone. The doctor was far more personable, maybe in her late 40's and wore gaudy chandelier earrings that brushed her shoulders and called her 'sweetie'.

Klein then told her she would be helping prepare the patient's treatments for the day and promptly left. Feeling somewhat abandoned, Samantha told her new associates that she prefered to be called 'Sammy'. The old pharmacist was referred to as Gus and the doctor's name was Cherry, as in the fruit she winked and demanded to know where Sammy had gotten her accent and her shoes.

Settling into her first assignment, Sammy helped prepare common maintenance treatments, eye drops, oral medications and topical prescriptions. As they did, Cherry spoke of the patients and Sammy now began to appreciate that she was indirectly being briefed on each case.

An hour or so later there was a playful, rhythmic knock and in came a tall statured man with a near shorn head and he was, of course dressed in the navy scrubs. With confidence he leaned against a table and wore a cocky smile, one eyebrow raised indefinitely.

"Hey are we replacing Gus with this?" he asked hopefully, nodding to Sammy.

Gus scowled at him and told him to get out. Laughing, Cherry told Sammy he was one of their head orderlies and his name was Conner Slone.

"This is Sammy, she's here for her clinicals and will be helping with the patients. Keep your dirty paws off Conner." advised Cherry.

Conner overplayed his oblivious innocence with wide eyes and his hands up.

He was definitely a flirt but he toned it down and Sammy found that they got along. She had broken up with a previous boyfriend just months ago because he diagnosed her as obsessive compulsive about her schooling and never made time for him. While she had been heartsick over their separation it had made her resolve to concentrate even more on her goal career.

She was definitely not looking for another relationship now and knew that dating someone from where she worked would only make things complicated.

"So are you administering the pills too?" Conner asked Sammy as they had stocked the secure metal cart that would be taken down to the patients.

Gus answered gruffly out of turn, "Klein said just preparation for now. She'll assist Cherry in injections and the such."

Cherry was on a phone and hung up then with a sigh, "Niall McGuin woke up screaming today. Abrasions and bruises all over his body. Says 'the Boogeyman' tried to kill him."

There was a signature scoff from Gus, "I swear, half the self harm and accidents in this hospital happen because of him. Cause of Myers. He's got them all spooked into hallucinations!"

Adding extra first aid supplies to their haul Cherry frowned.

"Myers? I don't think I saw a schedule for him." Sammy commented as she looked over the list of patient prescriptions.

A single bark of laughter came from Conner, "Drugs for Michael? Even if you could get him to take them or have the time to force a dose on him, it'd be no use."

"Why not?" Sammy asked.

The three of them looked at her puzzled, then Conner finally said, "You've never heard of Michael Myers?"

She hadn't and shook her head.

"Fifteen years ago the dude killed his friend at school, then killed his mom, sister's boyfriend and mom's boyfriend and tried to kill his sister on Halloween night with a kitchen knife. He was 10. Then he killed a nurse at some kid detention center in Princeton. We had a guy here hang himself and he had a mask like Michael makes on his face."

"Conner that's enough." Gus cut in seriously, "You spread those things and it riles up the patients, makes it worse."

Nodding, Cherry looked nervous herself, "Let's get back to work everyone. There's enough horror stories in this place to put Stephen King out of business. Come on Sammy."

A tingling shiver slid down Sammy's spine at their discussion. Not that she hadn't heard of such disturbing crimes of course but for some reason, suddenly being in the same building as someone who was capable of them turned her stomach. It would be something she would have to get used to.

She shoved the uneasiness from her thoughts and followed Cherry to the elevator and down to the next floor. Conner went with them and took the medications to different rooms. He told Sammy that the hospital was organized like the levels in Dante's inferno, accept that they only had three rings of purgatory. The patients on the first level were lower risk than the next two and security increased as you descended. Cherry would tell him to mind his tongue and he'd salute her in military style then wink at Sammy.

They took lunch in the break room where Klein found them and asked Conner to show Sammy the grounds and where the utility areas were. But when Sammy asked if she would be able to see the bottom two floors Klein brushed it off. Soon he said.

So her days at Smith's Grove went. She would come early and leave late unless Klein told her to go home. Home was a small apartment in the closest town called Haddonfield. Her nose became accustomed to the stale hospital smells of cafeteria food, industrial grade disinfectants and patient hygiene. The other employees were friendly enough and Conner ate lunch with her on the few day shifts he worked for he mostly scheduled overnights. One day she came in with a plate of chocolate chip pumpkin cookies and Conner took to calling her pumpkin when his superiors weren't within ear shot.

Scrubs she was used to already and settled into the repetitious fashion. The blue was fine but they didn't have a small size and so she had to bare a loose uniform. The trousers bagged over her feet and the top ballooned around her when she sat down.

Sammy tried to get to know the patients before she learned of their convictions. The ones she came into contact with on the first floor were mostly personable and would brighten up when they saw her. Here and there she heard whispers of some of the others on the lower floors. Mostly of Michael Myers. Versions of his history twisted or exaggerated that he had killed almost the whole town as a six year old. That he wandered the halls, unconfined by any lock or wall wearing a false, patchy mask.

She was granted access to the second floor down a month later and Conner walked with her as they delivered the little cups of tablets and capsules, inhalers, injections and topical medicines.

He told her of each person's conviction, most had killed someone or worse.

"Most of them are pretty mellow up here. You don't get anyone with any imagination until you get downstairs, to 'the challenger deep' I call it." Conner chuckled until he noticed her shocked expression.

Frowning he hurriedly added, "Sorry, you work here so long, I guess it seems normal even though it's still disgusting."

"It should never be normal." She murmured.

"Yeah. Well, it's hard to see them everyday you know? Not because you think they're the trash of the human race, but because they're stuck here. They can't live out there cause we can't trust them and so we cage them up. They've done something horrible and now we're punishing them slowly, probably for the rest of their lives. The people out there, those 'civil' people who sent them here don't have to feel bad that they didn't put them out of their misery. But we get to see it every day." Conner ranted as they stopped in front of a door.

Although she found his words slanted and unnerving, she tried to understand how just working here must affect someone. Perhaps she could also research the impact caretaker's sustain from their exposure.

"The system isn't perfect but I believe we'll be more and more successful in caring for them as we advance in the mental health field." she tried to be positive for him.

"You sound like a textbook Pumpkin." He shook his head and looked over the tray of pills for the inmate here.

He pulled out his ring of keys and opened the door only to be greeted by the older man inside who yelped as they entered.

"NO!" he shrieked.

He was obviously upset and Sammy had to take his glucose levels so she tried to calm him. It took some time but he finally told her he had seen a face in his door window. A flaking, distorted face veiled by hair and smudged color that had stood and stared at him all night.

It had been the third person that morning who had the same story. It was obviously figments of their imaginations but she told Klein anyway and he looked very troubled. A memo was sent around that no one was to speak of Myers accept in solitary areas where the other patients couldn't overhear.

The week before Halloween Klein sent Sammy down to the third level accompanied by two orderlies and Cherry who showed her the routine there.

The stark and barren hallways were older and more deteriorated than those above. The lights seemed dimmer down here, the air more dank and thick. Out of the 108 inmates in the hospital, only twenty lived in these rooms. They were considered the most at risk of injuring themselves or others.

At one room they stopped in front of was Lacey Butterfield who had murdered her boyfriend in a fit of passion and rage and disturbing method; of course after he had dumped her 7 years ago. She was Sammy's age and a pretty girl and very intelligent. A pathological liar, she would respond dishonestly to questions even when the truth was obvious and didn't seem to even notice or look ashamed.

There was a rapist that Sammy had heard of a while ago and then nothing further was reported in the news but he was here, sitting in his cell singing in some language he had made up to Simon and Garfunkel tunes.

Finally they came to the door Sammy had tried not to anticipate. Michael Myers didn't take medication Cherry said, but she was delivering some items to him. A new toothbrush, paints and a paintbrush and a candy peanut. The toothbrush and paintbrush were modified, missing their handles for safety reasons. This was common for such changes in a secured hospital of course but one of the orderlies told Sammy later that they had had another psychiatrist here to help Klein one day, about four years ago. He had visited Myers and ended up with a paint brush handle in his gut.

Now Sammy looked into the shadowy room, darker than most of the other rooms but she knew why. Michael had a special case of mydriasis that caused his pupils to dilate extremely and bright light would grieved him discomfort. The result were eyes that almost looked black and monstrous if you could ever actually catch a glimpse of them. His back was to them as they stood at the small window, triple thick and reinforced plexiglass. Sitting at a desk across the small room, lit by a small table lamp, he was still hulking. His head bowed over his work and his massive shoulders rounded forward. Mostly just an outline was seen but the light shown a golden halo through his blonde disheveled hair.

Cherry did not open the door, she pointed to an access slot near the ground where his meals were inserted and retrieved. A key was required to open the mechanism that Cherry produced from her key ring.

"Now, this is important, there are two doors to open per access. Open the outside first then the inside, but never the inside unless you have someone with eyes on him. Do you see him at his desk?" Cherry asked as she put her hand to the latch. Sammy looked in to see him still in his chair.

"Yes, he's at his desk still." Sammy felt silly saying it for she was sure he could hear them but Cherry opened the two gates that shuttered and squeaked in dry protest.

A polished plate and cup were there to be taken, licked clean maybe. That was how it always was Cherry told her. No utensils were issued just a cup and tray.

"Keep your eyes on him." ordered Cherry, her voice wavering and hands shaking as Sammy looked through the window. She could still see him subtly moving hunched over the desk.

"He's still there." she assured the doctor who almost frantically took the plate and cup and put the items in their place.

Quickly the door was shut and the woman rose with a shaky breath. Her near panic had Sammy fascinated for the woman was always cheerful and bold amongst the other inmates.

Another access point was about chest height for Sammy and Cherry opened it, her eyes never leaving the window. Clearing her throat her voice stabilized as she spoke, "Michael? It's Dr. Lyon. I left you your new toothbrush and painting things. This is the last peanut and I haven't gotten to the store but I'll try to get more for tomorrow alright sweetie?"

The man didn't speak or make any indication that he had heard her. He simply sat and worked over whatever he was creating.

"Michael?" Cherry tried again, "This is Miss Loomis, she's my new helper ok? She may bring you things if Dr. Klein or I can't but don't worry that probably won't happen."

Sammy swung her head to look at the doctor, somewhat offended at the assurance. Looking down, Cherry quickly shut the doors, secured the lock with her key and looked back at her expectantly.

Stepping on the elevator, Sammy finally asked, "Is there a reason I shouldn't bring Mr. Myer's anything?"

"Well, he doesn't require any medical attention which is your job. Dr. Klein specifically asked that you keep contact with him and others on the bottom floor to a minimum and never alone."

Accepting this, Sammy forced a weak smile, "Ok. I guess I just feel it may undermine his confidence to confide in me…"

Raising an eyebrow, Cherry said, "Does he need to confide in you?"

At this Sammy had nothing to answer. She was right, there was no reason to establish any sort of trust with this patient so she moved on to a different subject. "The candy, just a treat?"

Cherry nodded, "He likes candy. Especially halloween candy."

The lift shuddered and began to climb.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. All original characters and plot are the property of the author. No copyright infringement is intended.

 

* * *

The screams made him withdraw even more into himself.

He knew they were coming from the girl down the hall and she sounded like his mother had when she had answered the phone. Piercing, devoured.

He stood and went to the door.

Squatting down, Michael Myers picked up some the little items that sat on the ground there.

Orange, Black. They were the only colors he'd need.

Screaming screaming screaming. Didn't she know it baited it? Stoked it?

Sitting back down at the desk he adjusted the little light so it wouldn't pool in his gaping eyes, searing them. The new brush barely fit in his large fingers but he had learned to hold the little tool delicately. Dipping the bristles in the clean, vibrant orange he started to glaze the dried paper mache.

Sometimes he saw Judith in the mask's empty eyes. Heartless and dark. Then he remembered them shut, reflected in her blood on the floor. Sometimes he saw the night sky or burned wood. Both had the same smell.

Loomis.

* * *

For late October, the sun shone with heated breath that carried on the gusts of wind, coaxing the leaves from the trees. They showered down in bright pinks, cool purples and blushing orange.

In a small section of the lawns, the patients were taken out in groups for an hour at a time. Interfused with guards and orderlies, they enjoyed their small taste of freedom. Some ran and jumped about like little children. Others laid in the ebb and flow of the felled leaves, arms and legs furled out singing or sleeping.

Not all were allowed out of course. Some never left their cells, most on the bottom floor.

With much of the already scant staff helping outside, Sammy scurried about shuffling patients to their evaluations and sessions with Klein.

She had just brought Niall in when Klein groaned, "Miss Loomis, I forgot McGuin's file in the office, would you fetch it please?" he handed her his keys.

Off she went, knowing she would feel the exercise in the next day.

In the large, cold filing room, Sammy looked through the M's, unable to find the file. Scolding Smith's Grove as if it were an incompetent person she probably sounded like she was unbalanced herself. Files! It was 2015! How in the world did they not have it all in a data base and onto computers? It was plain to see the whole facility direly needed modernizing and updating. Key and lock still prevailed although there were some numerical locks and the like for security. The surveillance was a joke, only working half the time and what was recorded was in such poor resolution made the picture practically useless. Klein said he had made 'requests' but because there had been no 'immediate need' they had been put off by the state and federal government. What that meant was no one had died recently.

She was about to close the drawer in exacerbation when an old, worn folder caught her eye. Myers, M. A. Letting it hold her attention for only a moment she closed the drawer then went to the next drawer down to the N's. There she found Niall's misfile and pulled it free. Turning she took a step and stopped abruptly. There was no controlling the impulse and she wheeled around and opened the first drawer again, taking out Myer's folder and hurriedly stepped out of the room, turning the light off.

As soon as she had delivered the papers she dashed off to the staff breakroom. Grabbing a chair she locked herself in the bathroom and sat down, opening the file.

A thin stack of photographs were in a plastic sheath at the beginning. Taking them out she flinched as the first dozen or so were of the Myers house crime scene. The bodies in their last positions and the large knife. She flipped through them until she came to a picture of a pudgy, baby-faced boy with the date of '01 on the back. His eyes were a cold silver, menacing and radiating with fury. The rest progressed every 4 years or so, showing a drastic growth in the smaller boy putting on height and muscle. The face matured, losing it's round cheeks and sharpening features developed. The eyes changed as well, the black of the pupil spreading, swallowing the grey until the last picture. There Michael sat manacled in a heavy chain restriction harness and a foreign hand held back the persistent fringe of tangled blonde hair from falling in his face. Dated 2014.

The brief history told of losing his father at age 9, some of the stories she had already heard including injury and killing animals, the death of the boy at school, the nurse. The masks which she now understood that was what he worked on at that desk every day. He was tutored as much as possible until he was 16 and then Klein decided he was not responding to instruction anyway and aborted his education.

The diagnosis was easily read and predictable for Sammy who had read the DSM's fifth edition multiple times over the last two years.

'Subject exhibits catatonia and is often observed to remain in one position for remarkable extended periods of time...however it has been noted on two different occasions the patient has moved, being one place then another with phenomenal speed. (see maiming incident with Dr. David Brooks in May of 2011) Psychotic summary includes anxiety disorders...selective mutism as he has sustained no physical injury to inhibit speech. Incapacity for love, shame, remorse; ruthless attitude and lack of empathy. Possible schizophrenia, Acute/chronic stress…

The door swung open and Sammy jumped in her seat, papers erupted from her lap scattering as they fell and slid on the tile floor.

Conner stuck his head in, pulling his key from the door lock.

The burning in her cheeks at being caught brought reactionary anger to her voice, "Conner! Don't you knock!?"

A look of comprehension washed over his face and he stepped all the way in.

"People lock this door by accident all the time when they leave. I always check it if I'm around. What's wrong? Did I interrupt you and…" he left off, raising his limber eyebrow and setting his jaw.

"No...look I was just bored and I was supposed to get Niall's file and there was Mi...Myers' right next to it so I grabbed them both and…" She also left off but in embarrassment for her obvious effort at justifying her reading.

Conner nodded condemningly, "So I heard you finally met your Mr. Myers. Is he everything you'd hoped for? Looks like it just feeds the morbid fixation you have for the creep."

Completely bewildered Sammy was stunned, "Fixation….?! That's rubbish! You're the biggest snoop I've ever met Conner Slone! Just mind your own business. I'm just...irritated that they won't let me observe any of the sessions or anything so I plan on reading the notes and files of  _all_  the patients and... How will I learn if I'm limited?"

She slumped off the chair and began to pick up the papers wondering if she'd ever live this down and worse, would Klein send her away if he found out.

Looking back up at the man who watched with an amused glint in his eye she sighed pathetically, "Don't say anything?"

He grinned and squatted down, picking up the papers that had glided under the sink basin.

"You know I was teasing you right? I can't believe you said 'Rubbish'! That accent is going to drive someone mad." He said the last sentence with his own, awful attempt at a British accent. "But I'll tell you a secret, Old Mikey's was the first file I swiped too."

Squinting an eye at him, she realized he was sympathetic after all and she laughed at herself for being so defensive.

"Hey what are you doing for Halloween this Saturday?" he asked as they rearranged the papers in order.

"I don't know I didn't really think about it. Just stay in and scare trick or treaters with out my makeup on." She bantered.

"Pumpkin, there's no way you could ever scare anyone. Have you seen you? Every guy in here has to check his drool when you go by." He spilled.

Now Sammy was nervous again, "I'm sorry what are you babbling…..?"

He showed no sign of being embarrassed by his forward complement but moved on, "So Kayla in the cafeteria, she's throwing a party and I was going to see if you wanted to go? Costume party, pizza, heated pool, sick media room...the works. I checked, they don't make a better paycheck in the kitchen, her dad's rich or something."

Sammy hadn't done anything social or made many friends since she'd gotten there accept the old couple who lived next door who brought her strange casserole concoctions or the sophomore girls in the apartment above who attended the local community college. She sometimes walked their dogs when they couldn't be bothered. So she agreed to go with Conner.

The next day Cherry called in sick and a float doctor wouldn't be able to come until lunch. Gus and Sammy would have to struggle through by themselves under the latent supervision of Klein who was also very busy. A guard came in saying early that morning banging and other strange noises were heard from Michael Myer's cell. Protocol required a physician to examine him and of course Sammy called Klein right away because she knew of his preference of her to not meddle with the inmate.

Klein was obviously stressed and snarky, saying he'd have to dart Myers with enough sedative to down a horse just to see if he had scratched his elbow or stubbed his toe on the way to the toilet in the middle of the night. He told her to just go look through the window. He was sure Myers would be at his desk like always, sign the papers and forget about it. Cherry had her keys at home with her and only she and Klein had a complete set for some of the unguarded gates and the elevator so Sammy had to borrow Klein's.

Sammy knew Conner was on duty and if she asked him to go with her he'd probably raz her about Myers again so she slipped out and waved to the gate guard who buzzed her through.

In the elevator all by herself, she felt an inclination to just punch the bottom floor button then go back up and say she'd looked in on Myers without ever leaving the lift. After she had read his file, she had been left with a shuddersome feeling when she thought of him.

The long hallway stretched before her and it was then she realized she hadn't gotten an orderly to escort her. She would have to go back upstairs to find someone free to come. But Gus was expecting her back and she would have to hurry to give insulin shots and heart medications on time.

' _Just look through the window_.' she admonished herself and she went swiftly down the hall. She had finally gotten a size of scrubs that fit her slender figure and she found herself wrapping her fingers in the draw strings nervously as she approached the door.

What he might have been doing in the middle of the night she wasn't sure. Sounds were normal in a place like this, banging also but it was precaution to see if he had hurt himself. Besides, Michael Myers didn't move often, and he never made a sound.

She stopped just short of the line of sight into the room. A strange sluggishness had taken her and she felt her heart pumping more forcefully and faster. She knew she was being silly but suddenly she wanted to go back and get an orderly.

Biting the sides of her cheeks she physically shook her head to fend off the panic. There was nothing to fear, he was behind a locked door. Still, she remembered the other patients saying they had seen him at their doors. Lacey had been heard screaming in the middle of the night and insisting the mask man had entered her room.

With all the will power it would take for her to dive from a soaring plane, Sammy stepped forward and looked into the room. He was there of course. Sitting as he always did. Shoulders moving minutely in harmony with his arms and hands and fingers to assemble another slipshod mask. All was as it should be. A little giggle escaped her lips as she accepted how silly she'd acted.

With fresh confidence and bounce in her step she held her head high. She had faced the beast and lived.

When she returned the keys to Klein he noticed her rosed face and asked if she was ok. She said she was and that Michael looked well.

Klein nodded and said he thought he should make her a set of keys so that he wouldn't have to be bothered in the future. The next day she had a set of keys jingling in her pocket, secured of course by a belt so they couldn't be snatched by a patient easily. They were a sort of a badge of honor for her.

On Halloween, a few days later, Sammy heard Conner honk in front of her apartment to let her know he was there.

In a dorky ewok costume, complete with furry boots, gloves and a teddy-bear hat she wore with a brown t-shirt and black skinny jeans. She stopped short at the car looking into a white masked face peering out at her, a oversized silver butcher knife sat on the dashboard. It was a hockey mask and Conner slid it up onto his head, revealing his huge smile.

"You should see your face!" he hooted. "What are you supposed to be? A monkey?"

Swallowing she walked around the car and got in, reminding herself of her earlier victory.

"I'm an ewok. Can we get you a new costume?" She asked sincerely.

He just laughed again and they pulled away.

At Kayla's house she almost didn't let them in.

"Not funny Conner! I told you no dressing up like crazy killers…" Kayla fumed at him.

"Hey, I'm not telling you to get in your drawers and a rain slicker so I can chase you through the woods. Come on Kayla don't be a baby. It's freakin' Halloween!" He pressed.

As they entered he leaned over to say to Sammy, saying above the loud music, "I should have swiped one of Mikey's voodoo masks. That would have been the awesomest."

It was almost more than Sammy could take and she grabbed his hoodie to stop him, "Seriously Slone, you gotta let us have a minute ok? Work doesn't seem to affect you much but some of us are still trying to adjust."

"There's my little shrink!" he said looking pleased at her touch and she pushed him away. He was hopeless.

During the evening she relaxed a little bit and even had fun playing some high schoolish games like 'keys' (she almost burst out laughing maniacally at the name) and trying to eat a powdered doughnut off a string. But she ended up smashing Conner's into his face for some much needed revenge.

Apparently he decided he needed to retaliate and later that night he jumped in front of her with a deep-red, blood-like liquid drizzling from his chest through his fingers.

"Sammy! Help! It's Michael! He's chasing me! He got me with this plastic spoon! AHHHHh!" he fell over on her, knocking over a bowl of candy onto them from the counter.

Struggling to push his limp and dead weight off of her she swatted at him, "I hate you! I'm never talking to you again! Where's that knife?! I'm going to really put a hole in you…"

She could tell he was laughing from the convulsions of his body and he picked up a parchment wrapped candy from the floor beside her head, "You won't have to if you feed me one of these. Gross, who eats taffy anymore? I think this one is root beer too...now that's a crime."

Swiping it she growled at him, "I love these…"

It was nearly 4 in the morning before they left the party and Sammy had to drive a boozed Conner home. She promised to drop his car off the next day since it was her day off and she could pick him up and bring him over to get his car for his night shift that night. But she didn't drive home.

Try as she might she couldn't help remembering Cherry saying that Michael loved halloween candy and Sammy realized she'd forgotten to give him a candy peanut that day she had checked on him. Now she was undermining her own credibility with him.

Pulling up to a gas station she found a bag of candy corn pumpkins and bought them. Then she went back to Smith's Grove. Still dressed in her costume minus the hat and gloves she was let in by the night guards who all made some ridiculous or inappropriate comment about her furry legs but she just laughed with them and gave them 'the eyes'. It was a talent that she had apparently where she'd flutter her thick eyelashes and look a bit shy and usually she was never questioned and always obliged. Not a power to be misused she decided.

Taking out her keys, she felt a nervous excitement like a kid stealing a peek under the christmas tree before anyone had woken up. Scrunching her face she groaned at herself. Maybe she did have a fixation? She had just been working too hard and her interest in Myers, as fickle as it was, was maybe an outlet for her own stress.

As the elevator doors separated on the bottom floor Sammy hesitated at the hall. It was in the middle of the night, not daytime when there were many people about. An orderly was supposed to walk these halls every fifteen minutes but Conner told her it was rare if the patrol was ever on time. Most of the time it was every half hour at best. There was no one in sight now.

It would be easy. She would simply put the candy in and leave in less than two minutes. Somewhere inside of her wailed what a bad idea this was but she had come this far.

Her steps slowed as the door came closer. Did he sleep at night? Of course! He had to sleep sometime. It was a physical requirement to live and function. Would she disturb him or would he simply ignore her as he did the world routinely. Bargaining with herself, she decided to look in, if it was dark, she would leave. If he was at his desk she would deliver the candy and call it a night. It was easier to look into the small viewer this time and to her surprise he was indeed up and still painting.

Taking a breath she brought out the handful of candy from her pocket. Five pumpkins and to her surprise, the tan and white swirled taffy. It was meager for halloween but at least it was something.

Emboldened with good intentions and wanting to prove to herself that she wasn't paranoid she bent down, sitting on her heels. She had to try a couple of keys before she found the one that slid in easily and the lock shifted, sending a light echo into the acoustic-rich hall. She waited for a second, remembering what Cherry had said and stood to look in. Myers still sat like a scratched DVD, forever skipping back and playing over and over the constant scene.

She sat on her heels again and opened the outside first, then, with the candy in hand she opened the second. The lip of the cleaned plate sat right there, someone had forgotten to remove it but she didn't want to give away her violation of orders. As she went to put the candy in on the plate she glanced up at the window casually. Her heart stopped.

There, pressed against the glass was the peeling skin of a half orange mask peering down at her with scraggly tresses dangling before it, was Michael Myers. But it was the eyes, dark orbs set deep in the hollows of the mask that hit her like a wave of icy water. She threw herself backwards violently and a scream choked itself in her throat as she hit the wall behind.

Time stopped for her there, there was nothing else but numbing fear and she was drowning in it. Her legs moved on their own, still trying to futilely back up against the wall. He just watched for a moment then seemed to shift his glance back down to the bottom of the door.

A new rush of dread held her as she realized the key ring still hung from the lock at the bottom of the door. It was more than a foot away from the opening but someone with his arm length might still be able to reach them. The main lock of the door couldn't be opened from the inside but what if Michael could, somehow get out. The keys had access to the elevators, the gates, doors, exits. How could she have been so incredibly stupid?

"I'm sorry I bothered you." She jumped at her own voice, "I was just going to leave that candy for Halloween. I don't know if you like taffy. It's rootbeer. I…"

It took every ounce of willpower to move forward, crawling on the ground like a dog to the door, her eyes glued to his. His head tilted ever so slightly as she put out her hand to pick up the candy that she had dropped just outside the door.  _She_  was insane, she belonged in one of these rooms for putting herself in this position. Tossing the wrapped cylinder and little chunky pumpkins through the opening, she reached for the latches.

"I don't usually tell people I like that flavor cause people will think I'm crazy." She could have slapped herself for her poor wording, "Um, boot rear….sh...I mean root beer is an acquired taste that positively correlates with increased IQ. I'll prove it one day when I get the funding for the research...Anyway, Happy Halloween Michael."

What was she saying? She shifted the latches, the doors closing and she pulled the key out, trying not to look too eager.

Kneeling up, exhausted she raised her eyes to see the window that was now blank and black.

Getting up on wobbly legs she looked into the room. There he was, in his chair again, his back to her. Had she imagined it?

Sammy felt faint and she flipped around, leaning against the wall to take some deep, settling breaths. When she was sure her legs wouldn't give out she walked back down the hall to the elevator.

' _He can move like a ghost_.' she thought in her dazed head.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. All original characters and plot are the property of the author. No copyright infringement is intended.

The thumps of bass and added percussion echoed through the basement of Smith's Grove.

Conner Slone took out his phone that he wasn't supposed to have on duty and glanced at the time, 11:02 pm. He continued his beat boxing as he slipped it back in the pocket of his scrub top and pushed the armored cart further down the hall. Waving to the guard at the end of the hall* he drew up at a door. Taking out some keys he looked in through the little window.

The girl lay on her cot in pajama bottoms and a tank top. Smiling, Conner slid his key in the lock and clicked it once so that he could just open the door while the key remained in the lock but if the door shut it would still be locked. The door yawned open and the girl's eyes opened, falling on him. She took a startled breath and started to let out panicked sobs.

"No no no no, Lacey. You're ok. I'm just grabbin' your plate, chill." He slid the tray that held the scraps of dinner; bread crusts, chicken bones and shriveled peas into the path of the door so it would stay open. "Here you need something to sleep?"

He took out a sandwich bag of little white tablets from another pocket. "Here ya go."

The girl's dark hair was ratted at the side and she looked longingly at the pill as he held it out to her. She hesitantly reached for it and put it passed her lips, chewing on it.

"Go back to sleep." Conner smiled.

Picking up the trey, he went back out and let the door shut, checking that it was secure and removed the key.

His beat started anew and complex and he continued down, taking the plates from the various rooms until he got to Michael's. Here he looked in the little window and Myers was not at his desk. The little light still shown on the fixings of a new mask. Torn paper, little bottles of paint lined up and other little items he was allowed sat out ready to be used. As Conner had calculated it, Myers made a new mask, start to finish, one every four to six months. One would think with that much time spent on something, they'd look a little less crappy.

Shifting his feet, Conner squinted and could see Myer's outline on his bed, his back to the room. But Conner knew he was awake. Conner had worked here for four years and in that time you got to know people. He had never stopped beat boxing as he leaned against the wall lazily but he took an intermission now.

"Did they do 'tater tots for you my man?" He called in as he opened the top access, making sure to pull the key out. "I told them they need to give you more ketchup."

The thought made him chuckle as he stood there.

"So I gotta tell you this joke I played on Loomis right. I took her to this party right? Yeah, you know I'm sharkin' that. And I'm dressed as the hockey killer, grabbed some corn syrup and put some red food coloring in it and staggered out yelling, 'Mikey did it! Help me!' and this stuff was all over me." He was laughing so hard at the end as he spoke he could hardly finish.

Taking a breath he subsided, "That girl. Nice right? I'm workin' on that. I think I'll have some news pretty soon though. A guy's gotta work when he's not a celebrity like you ya know. Girls, they like the bad boys don't they? Hey, I got it. Why don't you and me and Pumpkin and Lacey double date right? Think Klein would go for that? We could go see that new zombie movie where they guy's arm gets torn off and there's blood sprayin' everywhere? The girls like crawlin' on us all scared and stuff."

He heard a shift and turned his eyes back into the room. Michael still lay on the bed but he had rolled to his back. His chest rose and fell under his grey t-shirt and his face shown a scaly deformation from the mask he wore. Conner was almost as tall as him, just over 6 feet. He wondered how Michael stayed in shape trapped in that little cell. Both were broad shouldered and toned. But it was one of the qualifications for this job. 'Physically as big as Myers' wasn't exactly written on the job application but 'able to manipulate and restrain disturbed patients' or something like that was.

Conner looked at the shadowed walls, you could barely see them but they weren't smooth. They jutted out in pointed shapes, rough rounds and crevices and holes. It was hard to see with just the dim desk light but they were covered in those crazy masks. He figured Myers had been in there since he was 12 or 13, the guy had to do something.

The nights were long working here but the pay was good. Still, to pass the time Conner continued his one sided conversation.

"So I was going to warn you, Klein, he says we gotta give you a bath. Rinsing your hair in the toilet's not going to pass anymore. So be prepared to get a dart in your butt sometime soon…" The facetious warning left off as something on the desk, at the fringes of the light caught his eye. Taking his phone out he checked the time then replaced it swiftly and looked down the hallway.

Securing the top access he put the key to the door's main lock and clicked it twice to fully unlock it. Then he went into Michael Myer's room. It was totally against policy and without permission but he moved over to the desk.

"What the…." he picked up the taffy by a twisted end then he sniffed it. It was root beer. "That little hooker…"

The bed creaked and Conner whirled around to see Michael sitting up on his bed looking over at him. Slitted eyes of black, ominous abyss burned in the sockets of the false face and the dried paint smudged hands gripped the edge of the steel frame.

Making the wise decision to set the candy down, Conner raised his hands in concession.

"Alright man. Ok. I ain't takin' your candy." He started to back out slowly, keeping his eyes on Michael who remained sitting but tracked Conner as he watched him backed out. At the door Conner bent to pick up the plates, never looking away from the Shape on the bed. Spick and span, just like Mikey always left them. But he wasn't allowed anything with bones or anything that could be fashioned into something dangerous and for that Conner was very glad for at this moment. Not that he wasn't afraid of Myers.

The guy scared him. But overriding his self preservation instinct was reckless awe. A stupid idolatry for a sadistic icon others could only watch on tv. But to be in the same room with a homicidal lunatic like Myers was like the high some people got climbing a 5000 foot sheer cliff with no safety line. Maybe it was because so far Myers had almost completely ignored him, he had gotten desensitized. Having him sit up like that had almost made Conner jump through the roof but he had managed to keep calm. The terror that came at the movement was euphoric.

As soon as he was out the door he locked it then squatted down to the lower access. A little tuff of the monkey hair from Sammy's costume was caught in the latch. So she had been there, there was no question.

Grabbing the cart he swore again and again as he dragged it down the hall.

A couple minutes later Conner knocked on the door of the surveillance room and then stood back so that he could be seen by the camera. There was no answer so he pounded again.

Finally the door buzzed and he went in. A short, wiry old man swiveled in his chair, the bags under his eyes looking extra puffy today.

"Hey Bug." Conner kept his voice easy going, "You sleepin'?"

The security guard's face soured defensively, "No….well, you know I've been here since 7."

Uncritical, Conner shrugged, "No problem man. Just going to ask if you wanted any coffee. I was going to get me one."

Bug brightened, "Sure! Thanks!"

Smiling, Conner glanced at the wall of screens, knowing right where to look. The muted colors and blurred picture was interrupted with static every now and again and the angle was  _just_  off on the basement floor hallway. Just off enough to miss Myer's door.

"28 still messed up? I'm going to get killed down there and nobody will even know. Especially if you're playing that Sukodu game…or sleepin'." he mumbled.

"Sudoku." Corrected the guard, "No they haven't fixed it. Doesn't matter if they did, it doesn't stay fixed...I think there's a curse on that hallway."

Nodding, Conner looked back to him, "Hey, if you want to go get your coffee I'll cover for ya a minute. I don't think I'm thirsty after all. You wanna take a walk?"

The older man nodded. A 12 hour shift in the little room was almost like being a prisoner yourself he had said. So he got up and left.

Conner sat down in the chair and began to type briskly on a keyboard. She owed him for this.

* * *

Pulling into the employee parking lot, Sammy threw the car in park and gathered her purse and phone. She was late today, two days after Halloween.

With one last look in the rearview mirror she raked at her thick bangs that she usually always brushed back or to the side. They were getting long enough to clash with her eyelashes but there was nothing to do for it now. THe rest of her hair was wound up on the top of her head in a bun and she opened the car door to get out. Turning as she stood up she almost ran into the massive frame of a man and she let out a high-pitched yelp.

"Conner!" She had fell back into the door, "You scared the crap out of me. Why are you sneaking around!?"

But instead of his normal gratified grin at her cost he just stared at her almost sadly.

"Not sneaking, I'm parked like right over there." he threw a thumb over his shoulder.

Her heartbeat regulating, Sammy settled down, "Oh, sorry for snapping at you. It's only 6:30. Don't you have like an hour or something left on your shift?"

"Got a headache, I'm going home." he turned around and started towards his truck, "Should have had you come in for me huh?"

Her friend's strange behavior had her puzzled and she had no words to react with. Conner left without waving.

The next time she saw him two days later he was acting himself again; carefree, joking and flirting.

Sammy never did tell anyone about Halloween night.

To her surprise, Dr. Klein asked if she would like to sit in on a session with Niall McGuin. The man had set fire to a RV park resulting in several injured and two people killed. But his problem was he thought he was burning out a typhoid outbreak. Still showing inclination to pyromania with no ability to calculate risks to others, he was sent here. Interestingly Sammy found out that he had managed to get a hold of some items years ago and made a small bomb that he put in a closet. He had hurt two orderlies including Conner.

Niall had taken a shine to her though and Dr. Klein had felt it to his benefit to include her in his therapy session.

Later, as she and Cherry did their rounds, Sammy was glad to not have to interact with Myers. She had had enough of him. The world shaking jolt she had gotten from seeing him had disillusioned her from any preoccupation she may have had in his case.

She moved on to the others, sometimes spending ridiculous amounts of time trying to convince them to take their medications.

One morning she sat near Gus loading the shots with B12, insulin, steroids and antibiotics when she got an order for a heavy sedative, azaperone/haloperidol accompanying Michael Myers' name. It also required it be prepared in a gun dart, something she'd never done.

While Gus took over, letting her watch him she asked him why they would need to sedate him. When she was told it was for a 'hygenall maintenance' she understood the necessity but she felt a dampening at the humiliation for him.

It was a high strength and dosage. It should definitely do the job and keep him most likely unconscious for hours afterwards. But Gus told her that Myers didn't respond to many tranquilizers for long so they made a backup syringe.

Sammy asked who shot the gun and Gus said it would be Klein most likely. She felt sick at the thought. There had to be a better way but Gus said the last time they tried to move him without sedation he batted three guards unconscious with a shoe. He had to be shocked into submission by 5 taser guns. When they decided to disable him with a tranquilizer, it took half a dozen orderlies to hold him down and one got his jaw broken, another was relieved of 3 of his teeth and another was paid out in worker's compensation for a nasty concussion.

Cherry seemed to want nothing to do with it, saying it reminded her of when her husband would go hunting and plug some wild animal.

So Sammy had to take the dart to where Klein, Conner and four other orderlies were organizing by the elevator door. Klein told her he may need her to come but she needn't watch, just be there in case something went wrong and she could fetch help. The fact that he said it like the scenario was possible made her bite at the corner of her lip nervously but she got into the elevator with them. Conner kept blowing at the back of her neck like an obnoxious teenaged boy.

"Sure you loaded that thing up with enough knock-out juice?" Conner asked.

Sammy stopped halfway down the hall, so on edge that she realized she'd bit a knick in her lip. The blood taste lightly roused her tongue but she was still focused on the group that was now at the door. The other orderlies crowded around the door as Conner unlocked it.

"Ok Mikey, shower time!" he called as he stepped in. There was a cringing scrape of what Sammy guessed to be the chair on the cement floor and then there was excited yelling.

"Get in here!"

"Hold him!"

Some sounds of a struggle and groans of pain then the flitting of the air gun.

"Hold him!"

She heard Conner's strained voice, "Stop fighting Mike! We won! You're gonna be out in a minute! Just knock it off!"

There was a crashing sound and she could see Dr. Klein jump back and Michael Myers lurched out into the hall. He threw off two orderlies trying to restrain him before he began to stagger then he crumpled over and trembled for a few seconds before he lay still on the floor.

Sammy had to close her eyes.

"You alright Porter?" she heard Klein ask. "Better have Miss Loomis have a look at that cut on your forehead."

She attended to the man's gash that he apparently got from being hurled against the corner of the desk. They had loaded Myers on a gurney and taken the mask off his face. Sammy's hands slowed their work as they wheeled him by. He was tall but didn't look as giant-like sprawled out like that. His oily, clumped hair still lay across his face vigilantly but she could still see his forehead hooding the closed eyes beneath it. His jaws were overgrown with a calico beard that brambled every which way. His clothes, a well worn grey t-shirt with holes worn in the collar and where it stretched about him and dark blue sweat pants were dappled in paint. Like he had used them to clean the brushes. Arms and feet bare she tried to see the sick killer in him, manifest in the features but now he looked so childlike and helpless.

Redirecting her focus she cleaned and bandaged the orderly's wound and then followed them to the bathing area. The room was larger than most cells. Tiled from floor to ceiling in a sickly yellow, shower heads sprouted from the walls and it smelled of mildew and a stale apple scented detergent.

The orderlies began to tug at his garments and Klein said, "Just cut them off, he's due for new ones. Loomis, go to the supply closet and get four changes. Large shirt and medium bottoms. Bring one set here and put the other three in his cell. He keeps them under the bed I believe. Trash the old."

Lingering by the door, her back and head turned away from the group Sammy murmured her acknowledgement. Glad to be able to leave with an excuse that Conner couldn't tease her about later, she had just taken two steps into the hallway when another volley of shouts came from behind her. Crashing and commotion, cursings and the sound of scuffling spun her around.

Had Michael woken up? She couldn't believe it. That dosage should keep someone even larger than him asleep for at least 3 hours!  
Why she ran back in would forever be a mystery to her but she closed the door behind her.

The fight was indeed on and they had either cut or torn his shirt off, it whipped around only being held to him still by a sleeve. It wasn't like a fight scene on a movie where bodies went flying and dynamically rolled on the floor then picked themselves up for more. It was like watching a pack of wolves on a nature show attack a mountain lion. Vicious and not waiting their turn, they flung their fists at his torso, grabbed and clawed desperately. Myers twisted himself this way and that, thrashing and legs throwing himself and those who clung to him into the gurney, walls and finally to the floor. Klein was shouting, trying to get close but had to jump back with the heave and throe of the fray. In his fingers, Sammy could see the syringe and the doctor was trying to get a chance to jab the violent inmate.

The flash of the scissors glinted and they were in Myers' fist. Klein shouted and stumbled back, the shot needle skidding across the floor by Sammy's feet. Dr. Klein had fallen to his knees with his hand at his sleeve and he screwed his head around to see Sammy looking stupidly at the syringe.

"Get it! Loomis for goodness sake!" He bellowed.

Snapping out of her daze, Sammy bent and grabbed it and ran forward. Conner had Myers' wrist in one hand and was throwing a punch to the man's mouth with the other. Her friend rasped for air, Sammy realized Michael had a hand at Connor's throat.

The onyx pools in Myers' eyes swelled, intent despite the blows that came at him.

"Sammy! Stick him!" Conner managed, choking.

The eyes swung to her, unshaded by a mask and unhindered by a steel door. She reached out timidly trying to grab at the arm that dug into Conner's windpipe.

The emotionless face of Michael Myers tilted like a songbird with effulgent and eerie consideration.

Sammy expected the blade of the scissors to slice across her skin as they had Klein but the hand that had held Conner came away granting him air. In the midst of the struggle, Michael Myers glanced down at the now free arm and supinated it to expose the underside.

Was he luring her closer? She hesitated but took the thrust out arm firmly and slid the silver needle under his skin and pushed the plunger.

It all had happened in seconds and Sammy knew better than to think the chemical would take effect as quickly as he went slack. He was drowned in sweating and gasping orderlies but those boring eyes remained on her until he was submerged by the pack.

She fell backward to Klein, his white dress shirt sleeve blooming red at his arm. He pushed at her attempt to look at his wound, telling her to run and get another dose of sedative. But it wasn't needed. When she finally got back, Myers' was laying on the floor, wet and a towel tossed over him. His eyes were closed but she wouldn't want to wager on if he was actually out cold, there was room for doubt. What caught her breath was they were indeed shearing him. The long, drenched hair was being hacked from his head and a razor was passing over his chin and jaw.

When they were done, blood seeped from his nose and lips; cuts he either got in the fight or from the frantic shave and she could see that he would have a bruised and sore body for a few days. Again she went for clothing, returning to hand a new t-shirt and simple drawstring trousers to Klein and left promptly.

She had the stack of fresh clothes and went down to the basement. Faces peered out at her from other windows with nowhere near the same effect the masked one had had. Shaking fingers dug for her keys and opened the heavy door. It was still dark, the lamp had been knocked off the desk and lay flickering between the desk and the toilet. The bed was unmade or jumbled by the earlier action. But the masks, they lined the walls and gawked at her with empty eyes and silent yowls.

She shivered and inched in further, crouching to pick up the light. Somehow, her paranoia was convinced he would come up behind her with the wide-bladed scissors and plunge them into her. Other things were on the floor, spilled paint, and bits of news paper snowed everywhere. As fast as she could she picked up the things and set them as best as she could on the desk. A larger square of paper she pulled from under the toppled chair and lifted it to the light. Two children smiled at her. One a cherubic little girl with wispy white hair that caught the sun in curls.

She sat in the lap of another. A little boy, round cheeked and buoyant, leaning in and hugging the little girl. At first she didn't see the relation. Not between the boy and the photos she'd seen of Michael as a ten year old. The sterling eyes were clear and whole rather than lethal and wasted to malice. There was hope and happiness, a connection.

Carefully she put it up on the desk, sitting against the base of the light so that it was prominent. Turning about, she pushed herself to hurry. Who knew how long they would be; how long  _he_  would be dormant.

She pulled the tired clothing from under the bed and put the new in its place and smoothed the bed sheets as much as possible. Something lumped under the course material and she fished out small hunk of what she came to realize was the taffy. It had been licked, or savored little by little. She sat this on the desk also, not knowing what else to do with it but she felt she couldn't throw it away.

In the future she would wonder if he had actually 'let' her give him the shot. It was absurd to think a predator like Michael Myers would surrender himself. Would he have survived the fight with the odds stacked against him? Conner and the others fading, Myers didn't seem to be fazed despite the beating his body took.

A week and more later she would glance into the room, seeing the back of the cropped head banded by the ties of his mask. Sitting at the desk.

Trapped.

Her body bucked awake one night and despite the cold of the new winter, moisture dampened her pajamas and forehead. In the dream she had been running through a forest. As fast as she ran she only made inches and something was behind her.

Sitting up in bed she breathed out raggedly. Soothing and assuring herself of the harmlessness of her nightmare, she got up and went to the kitchen to get water. She let it run for a few seconds and put her glass under the flow. Then she went to take a drink.

At the window over the sink a face looked in. A paper shingled mask looked down on her and she dared not move. He cocked his head and she dropped the glass screaming.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. All original characters and plot are the property of the author. No copyright infringement is intended.

When the neighbor's came at hearing her screams they found her cowering at the front door and shaking. No one was found outside or any trace that someone had been there.

It couldn't have been him and she knew it. Requesting that they not call the police, Sammy had to put it down for a walking nightmare. It only took an hour of rationalizing for her to calm herself. Working long hours, being immersed in her patient's psychosis must have brought her to this. MIchael Myers was one of the facility's most notorious legends, but it was all stigma. He would live and die in that room, never to walk free. Perhaps that was why seeing him, or thinking she saw him, was all the more terrifying. It had to be in her head and she had to rectify it.

A week later, Cherry asked her to do the rounds so she could take inventory of the medical supplies with Gus. After lunch Sammy and Conner pushed the medcart around, tending to the monotonous routine of daily doses.

On the basement floor, Conner ran the little paper cups of tablets and capsules to their consumers while Sammy tended to more complicated treatments.

Glancing down the hall to see him go into a room, Sammy walked over to Michael's door. There he was, sitting at his desk in true standard. Sammy kept her eyes away from the masks on the wall, trying to keep the vivid image of the ghastly face in the kitchen window from her mind.

With a candy peanut in hand she knelt and opened the bottom access, taking the tray and replacing it with the peanut.

As soon as she had closed it up again she stood, hearing Conner's footsteps coming down the hallway.

Joining her at the cart he looked to Myers' door, "You're supposed to wait for a look-out Pumpkin, you know that. Give Jumbo a peanut huh?"

She just nodded and looked over the clipboard that held the schedule for the patient's medications.

"Should have let me do it, I think he's still a little pissed at me about the whole death match in the shower. Left bruises on my neck for days. Kinda looked like the morning after prom…" he winked.

Sammy didn't smile at his joke but marked her initials on the record sheet.

Clearing his throat, Conner said, "I'm taking Lacey her stuff. Is this it?"

"Yeah." Sammy looked in the cup to confirm. "Oh, could you get her vitals while you're at it? She looked a little groggy this morning."

Taking the blood pressure cuff and stethoscope she offered him he said, "Sure."

Sammy started pushing the cart again down the hall, going opposite from Conner. Taking a look over her shoulder she saw him go into Lacey's room. When he was gone she went swiftly back to Myers' door and knocked. She didn't see him stop his subtle movements to indicate he had heard her but she knew she didn't have much time and she spoke.

"Hi Michael." She felt awkward talking through the door and hoping he could hear her, "It's Sammy Loomis. I just wanted to say...thanks for settling down in the shower room. I know it was a difficult situation for you and I think you made a good decision at the end. Dr. Klein's arm is much better."

Even though she had thought long and carefully of what she was going to say, it sounded too formal and cold. Pulling out something from her pocket she decided to try again.

"I came in your room, I'm sure you noticed, to bring you new clothes and I tried to clean it back up for you. I saw your picture, with your little sister. You two look like you made each other very happy. I hope you think about that a lot." She said as she looked down at the photo in her own fingers.

It was of her mother and she when she was perhaps four or five. They sat in a little flower bed with miniature white rose buds ornamenting the tiny, dark green leaves. In Sammy's arms was a little newborn.

"I had a little sister too but she died of RSV when she was two months old. I never got to know her very well. She liked those little roses though, she'd always grab at them with her little hands. They'll always remind me of her." She sighed and set the picture in the window so he could see it. "When you love people, it's hard to be away from them…"

She broke off when she heard Conner's shout and she whirled to look down the hall. Waving frantically from Lacey's open door, he shouted again, "Sammy! Come here quick! There's something wrong with her!"

Sammy flew down the hall and into the room. The girl lay on the bed lifelessly. Her skin almost as white as the sheets she lay on, her eyes were rolled up and lips blue.

Diving to the bedside, Sammy began to search the thin wrist for any sign of a hopeful pulse.

"What happened?!" She asked urgently trying to rouse the girl with a soft pat on the cheek, "Lacey! Lacey!"

Conner was at the side of the bed also, "I don't know! I came in and the blanket was on so I thought she was asleep. You know she sleeps a lot! So I took her tray and stuff then went to give her her pills...there she was...like that!"

"Oh my…." Sammy peeled the girl's lids open then climbed up on top of the bed and began CPR. "Go get Cherry! Call the ambulance!"

She pushed at Lacey's chest and then breathed into her mouth.

"Come on Lacey! Wake up. Please be ok!" she begged as she continued her repetitions.

Watching the paramedics wheel the girl away, Sammy folded her arms tightly and hugged them to her. She told the responders she thought it might be an overdose of a medication as they took over the CPR procedure from her. Now her arms ached and she felt light headed. Cherry had accompanied Lacey out and Klein now walked over to Sammy somberly.

"If it is an OD we'll have to do an investigation. Did you dispense the pills yesterday and today?" He asked, rubbing at his forehead.

The question caught her off guard and for a pivotal moment she realized what he was inferring; that she had somehow messed up and poisoned the girl. Hugging her arms all the closer Sammy bristled.

"Yes, this morning I did. But I followed the schedule like we always do. I didn't make a mistake Dr. Klein!" She insisted, her emotions of abhorrence at the thought of being the cause of Lacey's condition and the sting of questioned competence threatening to boil to the surface.

He didn't look persuaded one way or the other but nodded, "We'll get it cleared up Loomis. Why don't you take the rest of the day off, you look pretty rattled."

A raw protest she caught in her teeth but taking a deep breath she spoke calmly, "Dr. Klein, please let me stay. I need to stay."

Opening his mouth he paused then spoke, "Alright, but until we can figure out what happened, please assist Cherry only when she asks for it. Maybe you can help Laural in reception. Or help Conner pass out the trays."

Again Sammy gritted her teeth at what she felt was an unfair demotion of her position. She had to look away from Klein and she saw Conner standing there talking to two guards. His eyes flitted up to hers and he looked at her with some pity then went back to his conversation.

' _He thinks it's my fault as well._ ' She leaped to the conclusion.

But humbly she consented and watched as Klein took the medcart to finish the rounds. Sammy leaned her back against the wall to reconstruct her composure.

Across from her was Myers' door and she realized she'd left her picture in the window. Biting her lip, she went over to retrieve it before someone else saw it. Pulling it from where it was wedged in the crack of the corner, Sammy froze. On the glass where the picture had covered, there was a word smeared in red. It almost looked like blood for a minute but her brain quickly suggested it to be paint. Michael obviously had written it which was a shock in itself. Her eyes darted up to see him at his desk as if he had never left it. The writing was written so that it would be legible to her or whomever was reading it from the outside of the window.

'CONNER', was written clearly in capitals.

It's meaning could go so many different directions. Was he asking for Conner? Then the sinister thought that it may be a threat. Michael had almost strangled him that day in the shower. It could also just be the rambling of a very mentally disturbed man. She almost called Conner over to show him but suddenly felt tired. He would most likely see it anyway.

Later that night, just as Sammy was putting her coat to leave, Cherry called to say that after a thorough cleanse, Lacey was still holding on. Nothing could be certain but at least she had a chance.

Sammy held the hot tingle of tears in until she dropped into the driver's seat of her car and then let the flow pass over her cheeks and down her chin. Her forehead on the steering wheel she realized how invested she was in the people here. In Lacey and Niall. Whether or not they challenged her capabilities, she just wanted Lacey to be alright.

The next few days she helped in the dining room, washed dishes in the kitchen and folded laundry. Hardly what she had gotten into years of school loan debt for. But she told herself it would be worth the sacrifice for this is where she wanted to be. When she asked Klein what they had figured out he would tell her they were still investigating and that he would update her when he had solid conclusions.

The worst reassignment was at reception. It was like being sentenced to a solitary confinement of tasteless neo-jazz or looped Michael Bolton albums, ten year old magazine rearranging and the smell of Laurel's tunafish sandwiches she had for lunch every day.

To keep from being admitted to her own institution for going crazy and killing Laurel, Sammy busied herself with cleaning out the office supplies and filing cabinets. There was a computer that's only purpose seemed to be playing solitaire for the receptionist and Sammy asked her if she ever used it for data entry.

The woman just looked at her and asked, "What data?"

"Well appointments, shipments, letters and packages for the inmates, visitor logs."

The woman looked at her through her rectangle glasses like she was puzzled, "I have that written in my book here."

She pulled out a ledger of sorts and Sammy fingered through the pages. It wasn't even half way filled and it dated back two years. Now that she thought of it, she hadn't noticed many visitors but she thought it was because she was always busy and wasn't privy to those schedules.

Laurel said that few visitors ever came here. A few broken hearted mothers, some spiritual guides, sometimes another family member or friend but not often. Lacey had visits from her brother and mother she could see and remembered having her taken to the secured visiting area once.

There were many absences of visitors but of course Sammy noticed that Michael Myers hadn't been visited since the book had been in service. Remembering his file, his parents were both dead and his elder sister he had tried to kill so her lack of appearance was understandable. It mentioned a little sister that had been adopted out of state perhaps not even out of high school yet. And so the abandoned wasted away here as the world passed them by. Sammy wondered if the lack of connections played a role in the severity of the residents' illnesses. It might be an interesting topic for a paper but it was saddening to her and she felt for those who were forgotten.

She never asked Conner about his name in Myers' window and he did not bring it up. It was cleaned off the next time she had looked. He invited her to go to a movie with him which she accepted. They watched a superhero film which Sammy couldn't help herself and made her psychological diagnosis of each character and what was 'unbalanced' about them.

Shaking his head, Conner teased her about always being in therapist mode.

"If you ever find someone that's completely 'balanced', I think they'd be a freak of nature." he told her as they drove through the streets of Haddonfield.

Sammy had to admit she agreed with him. Every person seemed to have some sort of 'issue'. She thought of it like a target that no one was completely, mentally on the bulls-eye. Most had some sort of anxiety, depression, learning struggle or a number of other challenges. Learning to cope with those mental differences and maybe how far they sat from the center could make the difference between someone walking around town and someone behind a locked door in Smith's Grove.

"So Doctor Loomis." Conner grinned as he pulled up in front of her apartment building, "I know you've placed me. What's my psychosis?"

Shaking her head she gave him a playful push on his shoulder, "Come on Conner."

"No really! I want to know what's wrong with me!" he prodded cheekily.

"Nothing!" She put her phone in her purse, not willing to encourage his teasing.

Catching her elbow, Conner looked a little more serious, "Well there's gotta be something wrong cause I can't seem to get your attention. What's a guy have to do to be with you Sammy?"

Awkwardly, Sammy scolded herself for not seeing this coming. She knew he was interested but figured he was attractive and outgoing enough to have a number of girls keeping him busy.

"Conner, you're great…" She realized she was wading into the 'it's not you it's me' pond and tried to keep her excuses realistic and simple, "I just broke up with someone before I came here and I kinda feel like I need some space. I have so much to study for and everything, I wouldn't be the best girlfriend to anybody I don't think."

It was a lame speech no matter how true it was. She could see already another uncomfortable working relationship developing and she sighed.

None of it seemed to phase Conner because he leaned over to her anyway, the quick attempt getting his lips to the corner of her mouth before she could pull away. Trying to be as diplomatic about the veto as possible, she put her fingertips up to his mouth gently.

"Conner…" She started but to her surprise he shifted closer and tried again. This time with a firm hand to her face, directing her and holding her towards him.

This time she pushed at him, "Stop. Conner! Please don't do that. I really, can't, ok?"

He loosened his hold and snorted, obviously hurt and embarrassed.

"You know I don't get you Loomis." he began but only scoffed again and shook his head in exasperation.

Why Sammy felt guilty she was too tired to figure out and put her hand to the door latch.

"I'm sorry Conner, I'm just really...I don't know, stressed out right now. I'm…" She gave up and opened the door and got out. "Good night."

Walking to her apartment she didn't look behind her for fear of doing something to make it worse. Then the sound of approaching footsteps had her turn around. Conner jogged up to her, his face had smoothed from the offended pinch to his usual carefree half smile.

"What kind of friend would I be to let you walk to your door alone? What if the boogeyman got you?" he bumped into her gently with his shoulder.

The return smile slipped out before she could check it and she nodded gratefully to him.

The next day Lacey returned to Smith's Grove, enthusiastic about being 'home' she said. The reports said she had overdosed on clonazepam. The strange thing was that there was no tablets missing. Every single pill was accounted for and so Sammy was absolved of suspicion. Stricter regulations were put into place so that the doses were double checked by someone else to prevent any future events.

With little apology, Sammy was 'allowed' to do rounds again. It felt wonderful to be at her position once more. She asked Lacey what had happened and Lacey would only tell her she couldn't sleep because the boogeyman would come to get her. Everyone said that was another name for Myers.

Outside of Sammy's apartment grew a red maple tree that had blushed to a deep shade with purple-black veins running through the skin of the leaves late in the season. She picked out some of the most beautiful ones and also yellow and pink from other trees and took them with her to work. The inmates who were not allowed outside privileges she took the leaves to their rooms.

At Michael's door, she set a jagged red leaf next to the peanut and after closing the bottom access she stood and said into the door.

"I don't know when you last got to see the leaves Michael. The woods outside look like they're on fire. I thought of you when I saw it because I always thought the leaves falling looked like paint dripping from the trees." She looked into his room, it remained a semi-still picture. "Maybe you could get an idea from that leaf for one of your masks?"

There still was no acknowledgement but she smiled and bid him a good day and moved on.

In December, Sammy took a holiday break and flew to New York state where her parents had a second house away from England. It was a much needed recalibration for her although she was hesitant to leave Smith's Grove. Being in a familiar room and seeing old friends again seemed to melt the tension from her mind and muscle.

After some reversion to pre-med school, going out to the clubs and losing at golf to her father she felt a little more like herself.

But she often thought of her patients at Smith's Grove and how they would celebrate the holidays. She decided that next year she would stay there at the hospital for she felt somewhat guilty that she could leave and go home to family. For most of the patients, the days would be like any other.

Sammy made cinnamon rolls for breakfast on Christmas and surprised her parents as they came down the stairs in their bathrobes.

"I thought I was going to see you half under the tree, snooping through your gifts. I think I could get used to this new tradition." Mr. Loomis took a taste from the icing bowl, earning him a slap on the hand from his daughter.

"I was thinking of quitting medical school, buying a food truck and selling cinnamon rolls in the gym parking lot." She winked at him.

Frowning, her father said, "Not after all those restless nights of math tutoring you and banking my retirement on this prestigious career of yours!"

Mom just hugged Sammy and sighed at her  _two_  kids, "You two are ridiculous."

They had, of course, asked how things were at her internship at the hospital and Sammy knew full well they were worried about her. Forensic psychiatry was not what they had pictured their intelligent, beautiful and talented daughter dedicating her life to.

"It's not just the dangerous patients that trouble me Sam." Her mother related over their breakfast, "I just wonder how much you can actually do for these people. It seems they've already past a point of no return. To be in this maximum security prison…"

"Hospital." Sammy corrected.

Relenting, her mother nodded, "They've done horrible things. They will never be released will they?"

Concentrating on her fork, Sammy had to admit it, "Not many."

Her parents looked to each other and somehow Sammy realized this conversation may not have been as accidental as it seemed.

"Honey," Mr. Loomis said, lacing his fingers together, "You have such dedication to this, we just want to see you able to taste some success and enjoy seeing hope in your patients. It almost seems like a mechanic taking a job in a junkyard where the vehicles will never run again."

Sammy had to admit that sometimes she had felt helpless and like she had no effect on the patients of Smith's Grove but she had decided it was because it was the more difficult road. Not many had success in this extreme area and she was determined to contribute to its improvement.

"No, this is what I want to do Daddy. I'll see it through." She said serenely but firmly.

But they weren't going to give up easily and her father pressed, "Sam, I talked with some people and there's a troubled youth center right here in Albany who are very impressed with your credentials. They could take you as early as next month. These kids, you could change their lives. You might stop the crime before it happens?"

Her father could always make sense and she could only remain silent.

A warm hand covered hers and her mother gave her a sad smile, "We're just worried about you baby. Do they...even say 'thank you'?"

Swallowing at the forming ball in her throat Sammy couldn't help but think of Michael, "Some of them never will."

It was clear she didn't want to continue the conversation and her parents left off. Despite their worry for her, they trusted her. Still it had given her pause to analyze the route she had chosen. She did want to make a difference, a vital difference to someone and now she wondered if she was being vain enough to think she could save someone's life.

Lost causes. That was how these people were viewed. But she had come to see them as people that had good in them too.

When she landed at the airport back in Illinois, she was met by Conner who admitted that he had heard she was due in this day and had waited for all the flights in from New York. It saved her the trouble of a cab and she thanked him.

"Didn't even know if you'd be back. I guess you don't scare off too easy huh?" He joked as they drove. "Oh, we got a new shrink to help Klein. Used to work at the state hospital I guess."

Walking into Smith's Grove again the next day on schedule, Sammy was surprised when Cherry told her Dr. Klein wanted to see her immediately in his office.

Located on the top floor, Sammy knocked on the door and was called in.

It was a fairly simple office with little decor besides a few objects on the wall table behind the typical wooden desk. There was a singing bowl and mallet, a replica of an egyptian hook tool that was supposedly used to remove the brain from the cranial cavity and a dark green pearl resting on a plaque that read, 'One day, in retrospect, the years of struggle will strike you as the most beautiful. ~Freud" Paintings, some typical, one abstract hung on the wall and Sammy could see a different picture in it's black, white and grey strokes every time. A city, a pulverized peach, a man curling over backward...she never asked Klein what it meant.

"Miss Loomis, nice to see you back. You look well." He said leaning back in his chair and motioning to one just to the side for her.

She sat, "Thank you sir."

"I trust your trip was a restful one? How are your parents?"

Assuring him they were fine she waited for the purpose of the summons.

"We also have a new doctor to assist me with the mental health needs of the residents. I think you'll enjoy working with Miss Winters. She has just finished a very successful residency at the state hospital and retains the same enthusiasm you do for her work. She'll be in tomorrow and I will introduce you."

Sitting at the edge of her chair, Sammy courteously nodded at the briefing. If this was all the man had to say she wanted to get back to her work and back to her patients.

Being in a business where you read people, Klein must have noticed her expectancy for he raised his eyebrows in concession, "We have had some developments while you were gone."

Sammy immediately thought of Lacey, hoping the news was good but was completely blindsided by what he told her next.

"Myers took a shower with no resistance."

The information seemed to take its time making its importance to her valid. Yes, any cooperation from him, any acknowledgement besides the feeling that he may massacre you was something.

She tried to minimize her excitement at the news, "That is encouraging. Attention to self hygiene is a good sign."

But the doctor was looking at her with a particular intensity, "Miss Loomis. He wouldn't take the candy left for him during your absence. He also left this on his plate."

He opened a drawer and lifted out what she realized was a mask after she had a moment to decipher it. It was smaller and the texture was not the usual crudely plastered method. The skin of the mask was twisted into little swirling layers that resemble flowers. Roses. It was uncolored, white and only went over the eyes and slightly down one cheek. To look at it she had to appreciate the care taken to produce the intricate and beautiful mask.

As she felt her pulse rush at the realization that it could be because of the story she had told him of her little sister she also dreaded that Klein would obviously want to know why Myers had made it.

"That is...unusual for the patient." she said uncommitted and distantly.

"Look, I'm sure there was a reason he fabricated this. You must have given him some sort of impression at some point even though I had warned you to remain as neutral as possible…"

Klein sounded angry and Sammy knew she was in trouble but she could not respond before he was talking again, "I saw him let you give him that shot Loomis. I don't know why but he might be asking for something. I don't know if it's a connection or help...maybe something we do not want to give him. But he seems to be asking for you."

"Doctor, I'm sorry if I have complicated anything." She shifted in her chair, rubbing her palms on her scrub trouser legs nervously. "Any communication was minimal and I thought very unprovoking."

If she were a wooden marionette her nose would have grown across the room.

With a harsh sigh, the man ran his hand over his face, perhaps still debating about the consequences of what she may have done.

"I have tried to work with Myers for years as have other doctors. I suppose we had all given up on him. He seemed content to be here and uninterested in any sort of therapy offered him. This is highly out of pattern for him. Now, I would never require it of you and I would want to take exceptional safety precautions, but if you were interested in some sort of sessions with him, I would tentatively be open to allowing it." The man did not keep eye contact with her, he stared into the table in front of him.

A session? A psychological therapy session with an inmate! It was unorthodox for she hadn't yet begun her speciality in the field but the opportunity, it was exactly what she had pictured doing when she set out in her studies.

But the idea that it was Michael Myers, what could she expect to accomplish? What was it that he was actually thinking?

Holding her hand out for the mask, Sammy was handed it and she took it carefully for it was entirely made from paper. Whatever paper the man could get his hands on. There was a larger rose at the corner of a delicately shaped eye hole and she realized it was the wrapper from the taffy.

"Dr. Klein, I would very much like to accept your offer." She stated apathetically.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. All original characters and plot are the property of the author. No copyright infringement is intended.

At a small desk in the filing room, Sammy sat with her coat on. What little warm air was rationed through the heating system here could not battle the large space and poorly insulated walls.

Dr. Klein had given her years worth of recordings starting from when Michael had first been committed. The early '90's relied on cassette tapes and as soon as she had figured out how to operate the player, Sammy settled down to listen.

At first the boy seemed willing enough to speak, like any boy he would gush about any normal subject like riding his bike, movies he liked or subjects in school he hated. But when they would bring up that night, the night of Halloween when he murdered three people and attempt to kill his older sister, he would go mute and refuse to talk. The trend continued to evolve until he quit speaking all together when he was 17.

The last few recordings that Michael spoke, his voice would began to sag and plunge into a hateful, animal-like growl barbed with spite. His world was darker and contorted to some grim destination.

As she thought about what she heard a hand fell on her shoulder and she felt as though she had swallowed her own tongue. She swung her head around to see Conner and a woman looking down at her, obviously entertained.

"Jumpy!" Conner pointed out. "We called to you but you were listening to something on this prehistoric crap. So this is Amanda Winters. She's the new doc. An improvement on Klein I have to say."

Sammy decided that Conner would never change but had to admit the woman was very beautiful. Brown hair as deep as fresh coffee and lime green eyes. She must be just this side of thirty but dressed young and vibrantly, showing a healthy portion of her well shaped legs below her pencil skirt. She smiled acceptingly of Conner's complement and then looked over Sammy who was in her zip-up sweater and fading scrubs.

The woman put out her hand first and smiled, her lips glistened under candy-red gloss, "Hello! You're Miss Loomis! I've heard so much about you. Quite a help around here, the patients seem to really like you."

The words were alright but they savored of condescension. Still Sammy wound her smile up and took the warm hand with her nearly frozen one.

"Thanks. It's nice to have you here! Dr. Klein has been needing help for some time. I'm sure you're a godsend." she shook strongly.

"Well," Amanda tilted her head, "Klein says that if I need anything you two are the ones to ask. Sometime we should go get a coffee and you can bring me up to date on the inmates."

Conner chuckled as he glanced passed Sammy at the folders, tapes and notes on the desk, "Loomis definitely has everyone's file memorized. Looks like you're enjoying the prequel story to your favorite patient."

Sammy shot him a cold frown in warning but Amanda caught the exchange, "Who?"

"Michael Myers, Boogeyman of Haddonfield." Spilled Conner defiantly.

Winters raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow, "I've heard of him. Back at Harvard there was a four chapter case study on his incident. I'm really excited to meet him."

"You too huh?" Conner said sourly.

As tactfully as she could, Sammy tried to close the conversation. She was busy and tomorrow she would get her first session with Michael. Now, in the back of her mind, she worried that Winters may somehow interfere.

The visiting area had taken some design detail from the shower. Institutional, unoffending tile, speckled linoleum floor and smooth, flowing, non-acute angles to the table and chairs to facilitate the meetings. Classical music leaked from the speakers and frosted glass let in light but not the definition of the outside.

Sammy sat at a table in a dimmer corner of the room thinking about the environment. She was about to meet with Michael Myers for the first time formally and had given engrossing thought to every aspect of it. The visiting area was not ideal she decided but Klein had sternly rejected her request to let them speak in the evening outside. Not because the January air was too cold but he worried that too much change for the man may overwhelm him. Unspoken was his worry that Michael may do something desperate.

So Sammy would have to work with what she had which was what the institution had always used. In her opinion it had not worked with Myers in the past. Looking at her phone that held a wealth of information on psychological technique, she suddenly felt it useless. They had tried all this with Myers with no result. Inkblots, word associations, medications, therapies of every sort and the man was still a silent and feared demon that no one wanted to be alone with.

Turning the phone off she slipped it into her pocket at the distant sound of shuffling and chains. The door opened and she twisted in her chair to see three orderlies and a uniformed guard ushering in Michael Myers. He was 6' 3" but hunched over, his head hanging forward and ducked; face hidden by the mask he wore. In a frayed towel bathrobe, grey t-shirt and sweatpants he had no shoes on his feet but shackles on his ankles. The restraining harness belted him and impaired the movement of his paint-pied hands as the chain fastened in back.

The orderlies moved him towards a table in the middle of the room but Sammy called out to them, motioning to the table in the corner. She had decided it was the best place away from the main lights and she wanted him to feel secure with a corner at his back. The fact that it put her in the best position to bolt to the door was simply an added convenience.

He moved like a mindless zombie, dropping into the chair as the orderlies fastened his chains to an anchor on the ground. His hair had grown some since the fight in the bathroom, more than two inches. Long enough to stick out, messy and frizzed.

Slumped in the chair he made no move to look around but sat like a piece of furniture where he had been put.

Sammy, still standing, nodded in dismissal to the orderlies who looked at each other nervously.

"Brian, could you dim the lights on the way out please?" She asked and the orderly did so. There were hushed murmurs by the others.

"Dim the lights." one whispered insinuatingly.

"Trick or Treat baby." threw in another.

Frowning, Sammy realized no one was taking this seriously and she would have to speak to the guards about their behavior and its effects on the success of her work she intended to achieve.

And they were alone. The music seemed louder than ever and Sammy made a note to herself to turn it off next time.

There were only two chairs at this table and Sammy sat as close as she felt safe which was nearly straight across. Hopefully she would be out of arm's reach should something go wrong. It was as close as she dared.

With the lights dimmed, the shadows blotted out any definition of a face behind the mask. But Sammy could hear the full, rhythmic breaths and could make out the rise and fall of his chest.

Forcing herself not to stare, Sammy reached under the table to a little shopping bag she had and brought out the mask he had made and sat it on the table.

"It is a beautiful mask." She began as if in the middle of an ongoing conversation. "I can't even fathom how much work it was to make each little flower. It takes talent and thought to create something like this Michael."

He never moved, he just sat there quietly as if alone in his cell with only the walls of masks whispering to him.

Sammy continued, "I haven't tried it on yet, I wanted to wait until they let me talk to you. I'm very glad they did. I think they'll let us talk two times a week if you want to."

She took the mask up again and turned it around then put it to her face. It had no ties so she held it carefully in place. Through the shelter of the false face she still looked at his unresponsive position. For a moment she wondered if he was asleep.

"You know what I like about this mask? Besides the incredible sculpting that has gone into it? When it's on, I feel like nobody can see who I am or what I'm thinking. Things change all the time that I can't control, but this mask will always be the same. It's kind of like a north star I can depend on and no matter how I'm feeling, I know it's there." She was trying to be sincere.

In a way it was a lure and she knew he knew it. He had been exposed to therapists most of his life and most likely knew what this was, what she was. Sammy wondered if that made him dislike her all the more. But he had made this and she took it as a bid for a dialog of some sort, spoken or not.

A sudden smile broke her face and she couldn't help herself, "It smells like peppermint too." She added warmly and had decided a while ago he must have used toothpaste in the bonding plaster.

Did she see a twitch in his shoulder? Probably not, but she glanced over at the one way windows that lined the far wall, knowing Klein was likely there watching.

Letting the time flow by lazily and unchecked, she knew it was a practice that he felt comfortable and accustomed to. She felt like he was lost somewhere. Somewhere lonely and dark like the woods at night and if you are looking for someone who is missing you have to go find them rather than stand at the edge of insanity calling for them to come back. She wanted to relate to him, and let him relate to her. There had to be trust, there had to be a bond.

He did not move but she knew better than to let her childish impatience disappoint her. The whole time she kept the mask on as she talked, letting there also be periods of quiet. During the silence, she let her own mind wander, trying to understand him. How it would be to sit, not for minutes, but hours, weeks, years with no interaction behind a mask.

She spoke easily about things of no consequence. The weather that had began to snow outside, her push to get the kitchen to quit making the brownies taste like they added mayonnaise to the batter...like they put mayonnaise in everything.

This would be a process and she knew it, she was committed to it.

After an hour the shifting of a lock sounded and the orderlies came in again to take him. She had not seen his eyes the whole time; he hadn't even moved his hands or head. Now they untethered him from the spot and commanded him to rise and walk. He did so, his pace a restricted shuffle to the music of chains jingling.

When he was gone, Sammy removed the mask from her face and put in on the table again then leaned over. Cradling her chin in her hands she let the strain of being in the same space as him settle. He scared her, there was no question about that and she reckoned he knew it also. But she hoped she had given an impression at least, that she was willing to overcome that.

Klein did come in and actually voiced his approval of her introduction. At his side stood Amanda who pagented her pretentious smile without comment.

So they would meet twice a week for an hour, if anyone spoke it was her of course and Sammy found it a challenge to keep up a one sided conversation. Wearing the mask some of the time she realized she must be half mad herself. She had them turn the music down and even change the song that seemed to play on loop. If he was expected to 'be normal' they had to treat him as normal. Let him know what the world was like outside for she felt everyone kept each other grounded in reality through influence of 'normalcy'. Michael Myers had been on the fringes of society for so long and isolation left cold, defining scars.

He hardly ever moved and never spoke. The one day he moved a foot she almost had a panic attack. It was a reminder that he was fully capable of motion and whatever consequences that movement brought.

She brought in books and read to him what was happening in the world from the news. She thought she saw a slight, downward bow in his retreated mouth when she told him about the Kardashians. Sammy never brought up that halloween, or the killings.

During those early months of the year there was a murder in Haddonfield. No leads nor evidence of who had attacked a woman in a parking lot but the scene was brutal. It had been done with a knife and ruthlessly. Of course people related it to 'the boogeyman', but even in the impossibility, the sheriff's office called to 'make sure' Myers was still accounted for.

Amanda became part of the family at the sanitarium. She was nice enough but Sammy constantly got the feeling that she considered herself Sammy's superior which of course was true in the sense that she had graduated and held her professional psychiatrists endowment. Amanda would give her unsolicited tips about handling the patients and ask her the differences between medical school now as when she had been there.

Sammy was friendly to her and just tried to keep to her work.

* * *

Five hundred and thirty three. The number never changed. That's how many links were in the harness that picketed him to the floor. In all those small loops of metal, one of them most likely could snap; if he pulled hard enough.

Michael didn't look up. He didn't feel the need to. He knew she was there. The distant sound of her voice had stopped and despite his tendency to 'dwell' other things, the breaks in Loomis' conversation were welcome. It was like too much light. Conversation was uncomfortable. But out of every human voice he had heard over the last dozen or so years, hers had been the most tolerable.

If he got free, she would run. Why the thought made him intrigued he didn't care, but he knew he would draw to it. Like the instinct of a predator to stalk what ran from it. Michael relied a lot on such urges, what was natural impulse. Reason, inhibition and processed emotion rested unexercised in him like a book never read on a shelf.

Loomis was talking about cars. About learning how to drive a manual transmission. About wrecking her father's car into a fence and his mind drifted again.

* * *

One thing about Amanda, she wanted to update the sanitarium as quickly and as much as possible. She insisted to Klein that the records be imputed and asked that Sammy help her. It was tedious work and required that Sammy spend less time with the residents but she had to agree that it must be done. Sometimes the work reached into the night but she found that she actually got more done alone and after hours.

The cold record room had her almost falling asleep, or going into hibernation, one night when she finally decided to leave. Shutting off the light, she stepped out into the hall where only a few lights remained shining every now and again. Her tennis shoes made muffled plodding sounds as she made her way through the empty corridors. Every now and again a sub-human howl sounded from the rooms below and it made her shiver. Coming to a corner she began to look in her purse prematurely for her keys. Then a door opened as she breached the next hallway and she saw Conner emerging from Amanda's office, straightening his shirt in and glancing her way. She had pulled back almost immediately and didn't hear him call or give any indication he had noticed her. His suspicious actions gave her a feeling that he was hiding something.

She waited a few minutes then continued but stopped at Amanda's door. Knocking, she heard the woman call out.

"Uh...yes?"

So she was there, at least he hadn't been in her office on his own. Suddenly Sammy felt very naive. They could have, well, it's possible they were...involved.

Blushing, Sammy spoke up, "Hi Amanda! I was just working late and I was going to tell you I got through the last of the medical records. I'll start on Klein's notes tomorrow."

There was a shuffle then Amanda opened the door, running her manicured nails through her tousled, bobbed hair, "Oh? Great! Well we'll get everything set up tomorrow ok? Oh and can you do me a favor, after you scan in everything for Michael Myers, will you bring in those files to me? I haven't looked over his case yet."

The request wasn't completely surprising but it still flushed out a territorial sort of feeling for Sammy. Klein had given her this case and she had already invested herself to it. But Winters was an actual Doctor and a highly decorated one at that. Sammy had yet to even earn her diploma.

Clearing her throat and donning an unbothered smile, she nodded to Dr. Winters, "Sure, yeah. It might be a while, I'm going in alphabetical order…"

"Not a problem Samantha, just whenever. Uh, I'm just, finishing some paperwork so I'll see you tomorrow ok?" She barely waited for Sammy to nod before she shut the door.

The first time Michael lifted his eyes to her she was unable to bridge her sentence and continue for a moment. It had been more than three months. Three months of speaking to the breathing statue of a man with no response or sign of her impact upon him. Maybe it wasn't the first time he had looked about, but it was hard to tell in the dismal light and the hollows of his mask.

It wasn't a fleeting connection or one in passing as he always had his chin resting on his chest and was slumped in his chair; he lifted his head and deliberately cocked it towards her. The early spring light from the frosted windows reflected off the inkiness of his enlarged pupils, unshaded by the ledge of his brow and sheltering eyebrows.

Her current discussion of the march madness happenings trickled off as she tried to decide what was happening behind the ambiguous glare. In the past, Sammy had found that eyes do not lie and they will tell you if their person is. She could see much of what someone was thinking by the stories that shown from their eyes.

Michael Myers either possessed no emotion or he had shut off the mirror of it in his eyes long ago.

"Villanova or Oklahoma…." was the last thing she managed to say before her tongue completely stilled.

They were the same dead eyes that looked at her through his window that night and now they carried the same gravity. It was a force that yanked her in both directions; she wanted to move closer to explore them but also to shrink away. One thing she could be sure of, something had changed.

"...uh, will be in the finals…" She tore herself away and looked back to her phone to read the sports report. She never wrote anything down in front of him but this would be a pivotal point in her sessions with him that she would log later.

Everytime she would glance at him he was still focused on her until he was fetched and removed from the room. Every muscle in Sammy's body had cinched rigidly and now she forced them to relax.

After taking time to contemplate and then plan for her next meeting with Michael, she decided to tell Dr. Klein what had happened today. Gathering her things she made her way to the offices, passing by Winter's open door where she glanced in. The office wasn't that large and she could see a laptop screen on a side table and Michael's file spread out over the black lacquered wood of the desk.

The instant flare of resentment she checked with a sniff of dignity. From what she had learned of Winters, the woman was self-involved to the point of mild narcissism. The practice of peer diagnosis in the field of mental health was vicious.

Recklessly she stepped into the room to see if Winters had made any notes on the computer that would give Sammy any clue as to the woman's intentions but all she saw was the web browser open to the American Psychiatric Association page.

So she moved on to Dr. Klein's office, his door was only just ajar. And before she could knock she heard the clear voices.

"You know it's against regulations Oscar." Amanda's brassy voice charged.

Klein sounded tired, "He's on a suspended therapy status. You know what that means? The state won't waste valuable tax dollars on a snipe hunt. He's been written off. How can having graduate student visit with him twice a week for an hour do any harm? I'm not even officiating her reports for goodness sakes!"

Sammy pressed her lips into a line. Not only was she angry but she was confused. He was the one who had suggested the sessions!

"Well, I think you're putting yourself in a position to get reprimanded or sued if something happens to him or forbid, Loomis. Now look, I'm willing to supervise these 'visits' if you insist she continue. But Myers needs a skilled therapist, not an amateur nurse like her." her offer was soaked in overplayed obligation. "Budget reviews are coming up and I hear government subsidies are going to be competitive this next year. Some facilities are under review for being shut down. We're going to have to start making a name for ourselves. Perhaps we can interest private investors. But we'll need to get their attention somehow. I don't think allowing unlicensed interns patient access is the best way to do it..."

At this Sammy couldn't stand to hear anymore and she turned and went back to the medical room. There was little hope that Klein would stick up for her and she expected the sessions would be terminated. For the first time she thought of looking into the troubled youth center her parents had suggested, mostly out of spite.

And so when she came into the visitation room the next appointment day, it didn't surprise her to see Amanda perched in a chair at a table. With her hair and makeup flawlessly done and her clothing professional with a wink of form-fitting sensuality, Amanda looked up at her casually and smiled. Of course her brave-length skirt allowed her to showcase her legs as she crossed them off to the side.

Sammy didn't gratify her with any particular reaction, she just nodded to her and went to the far table to set down her small bag and began to swipe at her phone.

Raising an eyebrow, Amanda said, "I'll be joining you today Sammy. Dr. Klein felt it would be more clinically responsible if I manage these meetings."

Flinging a shrug in her direction, Sammy replied, "Fine. Great."

The room was quiet besides Sammy's subtle movements, no music played.

Finally Amanda laughed, "Sammy, you know there are methods and procedures to counseling patients of this nature. I know you haven't quite gotten to that part of your education and you shouldn't expect too much from...what you have been doing."

"I feel like there has been adequate progress."

At the snippy response, Amanda sighed, "No speech, no acknowledgement of even your presence; we need to get him to a place where he can be put on drug therapy and maybe even moved to a general population area of the hospital. Just think what an accomplishment that would be?"

Tightening her ponytail with a jerk, Sammy said, "I think he can do better than that."

"What does that even mean? He killed his family as a child! He's deeply disturbed Sammy and he'll be here for the rest of his life." Stated Amanda firmly.

The lock popped and the door opened with a whine as the orderlies ushered Michael into the room. As usual, he kept his head laxed forward and heeled as directed. Even this was vastly different from when Sammy had first come. Myers was never let out of his room without an expected struggle. But she didn't feel she had to prove anything to Winters and so turned her attention to her approaching patient.

"Bring him here." called Amanda from her table.

Like a short stopped train, the procession shuffled to a stop and the orderlies looked to Sammy who shook her head, "These are our normal seats Dr. Winters."

"Well, lets try something different today shall we?" It wasn't a suggestion and the orderlies escorted the inmate to the more centralized table.

"Dr. Winters, please do not disrupt…" Sammy began but was interrupted.

"Won't you join us here  _Miss_  Loomis?" Smiled Amanda gesturing to a chair, a subcurrent of authoritative assertion implied.

Livid, Sammy was about to say something more then she staunched it. She would not tighten the air more with conflict and so she relocated. At least she still sat in her normal spot in relation to Michael who slouched as he always did. The orderlies finished securing him and left.

Reconstructing her mood, she forced a smile and turned to Michael.

"Hey. We have a visitor here." She tried to sound enthusiastic but emphasise the 'visitor' point. She introduced Amanda who relaxed almost sideways in her chair, leaning leisurely against the table as she greeted him only to receive no response. Most likely she was a woman who could coax a response out of any man but this failure only seemed to cultivate her interest.

"So we were talking a couple weeks ago about music and I think you've become an expert on classical so I thought we could listen to some other stuff. If there's something you're interested in I can get a player or something for your room?" The electronic sound of typing had Sammy look to see Amanda typing on her own phone, making notes most likely.

Quickly she continued, talking about what bands were popular in which genre, as if she were talking to a friend, unscripted and natural. Thankfully, Amanda remained fairly reserved, but so did Michael. Sammy had hoped to have him look up again but he stayed fixated to the floor for the hour. At the end, Amanda also said goodbye and waited until he was taken away.

Standing up to leave also, Amanda stopped her, "Have you ever asked him to take off the mask?"

"No." it was an automatic reply, the idea almost as repelling as asking him to remove an article of clothing.

Amanda left it at that but the next couple of visits she began to comment as well. That she was making notes was obvious and more vexing than that, the way she almost posed herself Sammy found embarrassing. Michael never looked up again.

As they left the room at the close of a session, Amanda walked swiftly to keep up with Sammy.

"Sammy, I think we need to start thinking about maybe changing some things. I have an old textbook on forensic psychiatry I think you should read and together we'll come up with a treatment plan for him. In the meantime, why don't you let me try to take charge for a bit?"

Sammy couldn't help but roll her eyes. "He's doing fine Amanda."

Amanda caught her arm and stopped Sammy, "I know you are having a difficult time recognising that he isn't and with me crossing your marked territory, but let's do what's best for Michael."

"And you know exactly what he needs?" Sammy inquired sarcastically.

And there it was, the look of satisfaction on Amanda's face as if she knew she had struck a nerve but she kept her voice even and diplomatic.

"Sammy, that is the point. A case like Myers', nobody has yet treated with any real success. Imagine if there was progress, real, true progress. It would be a noteworthy breakthrough in the field. Something like that could be instrumental in getting you into an exceptional program. Have you ever thought of that?" there was a childish excitement glowing in Amanda.

Those words, they were almost word for word what she had seen on the screen in Amanda's office. The American Psychiatrist's Association page of awards offered a recognition for a 'noteworthy contribution to enhancing the field of forensic psychiatry'. Now it seemed Amanda just wanted to use Michael to get that recognition.

Squaring herself to Amanda, Sammy locked her eyes on hers, "I don't think there's any more room at that table for your ego and ambition. Find another 'case' to earn you your plaque  _Doctor_  Winters."

Leaving the stinging words in the air, Sammy turned to walk again only to have the clicking heels catch up with her again and Amanda fell into the lengthy stride.

"You know what Loomis? I was just like you back in school. Thought I knew everything already and anyone who tried to advise me I gave them a thrashing with my pride. You want to set this field on fire; be somebody and you want Myers to do it for  _you_."

Sammy just shook her head, "No, that's not why I'm meeting with him."

"Oh it's because you just want to help?" Now Winters spoke sarcastically.

"Yes. I want to help him." Sammy narrowed her eyes at her in challenge.

"But why? To feel good about yourself? Because you feel sorry for him?"

There were so many answers but Sammy couldn't seem to channel one. What was the point anyway? Winters would continue to argue her to death.

"Because I'm the only one who can." what she had said surprised even her and she continued to walk.

It must not have been what Amanda had expected for she stopped in shock but called to Sammy's back.

"That has to be the most arrogant thing I've ever heard! You know what I think Sammy? You'd let this engross your whole life until it killed you!" The words echoed down the hallway, washing Sammy on like a river carrying a dead leaf.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. All original characters and plot are the property of the author. No copyright infringement is intended.

While she was doing the noon rounds, for the first time, Sammy was dreading the session with Myers today. She had no way of proving it because she had no way of showing his progress but she felt that Winters' interference was regressive. It was like building something and watching someone come and destroy it. It infuriated her. She had tried to talk to Dr. Klein about it but he said his hands were tied. Winters had policy and law on her side.

Looking down the hallway just as she was moving off the elevator on the bottom floor, Sammy halted. Up ahead, at Myers' door was Winters. She was putting something through the little door while a guard watched through the window for her. When she stood she saw Sammy and she stood, walking towards her.

Rolling her shoulders back, Sammy looked back down at her clipboard, hoping Amanda would just walk by. But the woman stopped.

"Sammy I'll be conducting the meeting today. I still want to invite you to be there if you wish but I will insist you give me the same respect I have given you and don't interfere."

Choking an exasperated laugh Sammy ended up coughing.

Winters frowned, "I mean it. I'm going to address his past and I need him to be able to focus…"

Now Sammy really did gag, "You're not going to bring up halloween…" she asked and forbade at the same time.

Nodding, Amanda said, "Sammy, he's had a nice few months of placebo small talk with you. I think you've come as far as you can with the weather and politics. It's time he faces what happened and deal with it. You know that is what he needs to do. His history is poisoning him. You can't just keep putting band aids over an infected wound to ignore it. It needs to be exposed, treated and able to heal. Maybe it will jolt him out of his stupor."

A storm of emotions hit Sammy. Anger of course being the prevalent torrent because she felt, no she knew Michael wasn't ready for this. Jealousy because she wanted to be the one to work him into these memories carefully. Fear; it was shrouded and slithering below the rest but somehow it made Sammy shiver because she didn't know what to expect. Not just that it could be premature and make him upset and perhaps unreachable, but what if it did work? She should be happy about the notion but somehow Sammy felt guilty that she desired Winters to fail.

"What did you give him?" She asked evenly, trying to detour her thoughts.

"Just candy. His mother's favorite." Amanda told her, "See you soon."

Gripping the medcart Sammy watched her go. She knew there was nothing she could do and she also felt foolish for being so possessive. Trying to calm herself she knew that Myers wasn't the only patient in the hospital. There were others she could help; there would always be others. Maybe she just had to let him go.

Amanda had them sit near at a different table. She across from Michael with her back to the wall, Sammy farther away and to the side of them. A guard also remained in the room at the door. At least Winters was taking some precaution.

Michael's hair was growing out but wasn't yet long enough to drag itself downward completely and was sticking out haphazardly in every direction. His mask was mostly black, the eye holes small, almost wrathfully slitted. Sammy had never seen him wear this mask and it daunted her. He looked monstrous. But he sat as he always did anchored to the floor and wilted in the chair.

"Michael, today Sammy is letting me talk to you ok?" Amanda asserted much like a substitute school teacher. "I hope you liked the lemon drops I got especially for you today. I think they can help us remember some things from a long time ago."

Leaning back in her chair, Sammy was a helpless audience to a drama-tragedy production she suddenly didn't want to witness. Nervously she pulled the cuffs of her sweater down over her hands, the room was very cold today and the classical music back on.

On the table in front of her, Amanda pulled a stack of photos out from a folder and took one, sliding it over in front of Michael.

"Do you recognise them?" She asked gently.

Sammy could see from where she sat that it was a picture from Myers' file. It was his father teaching him to ride a bike in front of a yellow painted house with wisteria climbing the walls.

There was no reply from Myers. His long legs extended under the table and his arms and hands were shackled behind his back.

"I know you lost him Michael but can you remember those happy times? We have to take joy in the good things that have happened to us." Amanda cooed as she took out another picture of a birthday party. Bright colors blared from circus-like decorations and a young, towheaded Michael grinned at a little girl who was holding a balloon in his face. In one of his hands Sammy had noticed previously he held a plastic clown mask.

Then Amanda pushed another picture out.

It was taken in front of the same house but it had been repainted grey with black shutters. It must have been wintertime because the plants were dormant and dead looking, the sky clouded. Young Michael stood as if he were taken by surprise for the photo, the clown mask pulled off to the side crookedly as if someone had told him to take it off. There was a familiar gloom dimming his argentate eyes that had not yet surrendered to the blackness that lurked behind them.

"I think you were hurting badly Michael." Amanda said. "After your father died things got difficult didn't they?"

Like a hibernating bear, Myers remained unresponsive. But something was different. It was almost as if he were impossibly even more still. All but his chest. His lungs pushed at his chest harder and more frequently.

It made Sammy straighten, "Amanda…" she started calmly.

"Please Sammy. It's alright." Winters put a prohibiting hand up and taking something from a bag under the table. The old mask with a clown's face from the picture. She placed it by the photos spread on the table. Not only was it cracked and decaying, it's yellow skinned looked like it was splattered with something, "This is where you started to hide wasn't it? Hide from what you felt and from those that might hurt you again? Or were you hiding from something inside of you?"

"Maybe we should..." Sammy tried again, watching Michael. The muscles under his robe and shirt had become more defined as if flexed, his hands magically fisted.

But Amanda looked at her warningly, "I will ask you to leave Miss Loomis if you can't let me finish."

It was a mistake and Sammy knew that later but she did yield. What was in front of her was like watching a reckless driver weaving in and out of high speed traffic.

There was a clink of the chains brushing against the chair and Sammy knew Amanda had heard it. With a creeping, satisfied smile pushing at her cheeks, the woman took out another photo. It was of a pretty blonde woman and three children. The woman looked older than she probably was, the skin of her face weighed with weary sorrow and care but she tried to smile nonetheless. Deborah Myers. Another girl, a young teenager sat next to the woman with no smile. Her eyes peered out stomily from under her pressing eyebrows and she did not smile. Neither did Michael who sat on the other side of his mother. In Deborah's lap sat the only unburdened person in the picture. The happy little girl who had a fist full of Michael's hair and a mischievous smirk on her face.

She slid it in formation with the other photos.

"Michael," Amanda's voice was highly pitched and broody, like someone speaking to the little boy in the images and not to a full grown man, "On Halloween something happened didn't it? You tried to find a way to cope with the things inside of you...but something bad got out…"

It was a blur of rage. Myers appeared on his feet, the unbolted table in front of him screeching across the floor. It slammed against Sammy, knocking her chair over and she fell to the ground, her head bouncing on the tile and flooding with pain. There were screams. Sammy realized one of them was hers and that she was on the floor. Dazed, she blinked up to see the guard trying to restrain Myers who was standing against the table. The chain that bound him to the floor behind him pulled taut but Michael still held against the table.

The guard had an arm hooked around Michael's neck jerking at him and frantically was radioing for help on his shoulder unit. With a sharp convulsion of his body, Michael swung his head around, hitting the guard at his temple. It must have been a heavy blow for the man released his hold and fell back into another table and chairs and did not get up.

All this happening in fleet seconds, Sammy glanced over to try to see where Amanda was. From the ground, she saw the woman's body under the table somewhat propped on a tumbled chair against the wall. Amanda's arms and legs squirmed desperately. Grimmly, her head was not visible and it made Sammy gasp. Then she realized it was just above the table top, still attached.

She snapped her attention back to Michael who she could see now was again pressing against the table, crushing Amanda's neck.

Without thought to her inclination, Sammy pushed herself to her feet and ran over to Myers. Throwing herself into him she tried to push him aside. It felt like she had impacted a well rooted tree. The straining chain was what was saving Amanda.

A reactionary jerk of Michael's body shook her off easily and she stumbled backward into a chair. Tumbling over it she hit the floor again hard.

With slow recovery she rolled from her back to her side and started to push herself up again. Her head thundered with pain but she looked over to Michael. He glared back at her placidly, the table and Amanda forgotten.

"Michael," she suddenly felt very alone, her voice reverberating in the room, "You need to stop yourself."

' _Because no one else can_.' she realized. The guard was laying still on the floor.

The spray of ratted hair surrounded the charcoal black, demon-like face; his eyes were dark behind it. Then he turned to her and took a step, the radius of leash curving him slightly. Sammy let out a ragged sigh of relief. When he was restricted again he wrenched his head to the side as if contemplating the situation.

Sammy knew she should be scrambling up and running for the door. She would have to make a wide circle around Michael if he decided to try to follow her on his picket. But she rose slowly, reckless curiosity making her linger. Myers was trying his bonds, experimenting with their limits. He tugged then began to yank at them brutally.

Sammy's faith in the soundess of the restraints wavered and she began to get up, drawing little support on the overturned chair. She never looked away from him as she took to her feet and began to edge around him for the door.

His masked face turned again for her movement, the sudden attention urging her to go faster. He seemed to shrink into a crouch then pitched directly at her. The chain resisted for only a blink then snapped.

Sammy couldn't find the scream she wanted to release. Terror locked the air in her pounding chest but she somehow lunged out of the way before Michael barreled into her.

Desperately she ran for the door only to remember it being locked from the outside per Winters' request. Slamming into it she began to try the knob anyway, her other fist pounding at the solid metal paneling. Panicked, she looked back over her shoulder to see Michael standing where she had been just seconds ago. Hands still joined at his back and a length of chain dangling from the leather belt. It was as if he was waiting for her to watch him come for her for he took a step towards her now, calculated and ominously.

Sammy felt paralyzed and could only await what would happen, what he would do.

"Michael. Whatever happened, you don't have to let it control you now." She tried to shore up her brittle voice with fake confidence but her terror was written all over her face.

Undeterred, he continued towards her, almost within reach when suddenly the door behind her shook and was shoved into her back, scooping her out of the way. Orderlies poured into the room and swarmed the feral patient.

Being unable to see him, Sammy regained some sense that had been strangled out by her gripping fear. She went at once to the displaced table and to Amanda. Her head lolled to the side, her face pale and lips bluing. Sammy carefully moved the table, carefully supporting her spine and letting Amanda slump into her arms. Fearing the worst, she felt at her neck. There was a pulse.

The commotion behind her she could not watch. They were still trying to subdue him. How anyone could resist eight grown men was unbelievable.

Somebody was at her side and she jumped at their presence. It was Dr. Klein who ordered her to go wait for the ambulance.

Myers had been removed by the time she'd gotten back and they did what they could to keep Amanda as comfortable as possible until she also was taken out.

Klein and Sammy sat in the visitation room speaking lowly. The janitor was picking up the upset chairs.

"She...she went too far." Sammy said to her folded hands that wrung in her lap.

"You cannot make an excuse for him Loomis. He almost killed her." Klein said blatantly.

"She knew his violent history. It is how he reacts. It was irresponsible."

Klein sighed, "I am cancelling his visitations. Myers will be returned to solitary status. I know you had ambitions for him but, I cannot risk the danger again."

* * *

Dazzling morning light filled the kitchen through the bay window that rimmed the breakfast nook. There were no curtains to forbid it as it fell on the bare counter tops and dusty floor. It fell on a girl who clutched a 10 pound sledge hammer as she eyed her helpless victim.

"Alright. This has been a long time coming. I know we've been through a lot together, but this is just something I've got to do. I need the money." Her young, soft voice was doleful.

She raised the heavy iron, readying her sinister blow when a voice broke behind her.

"Laurie! What are you doing?!" Cynthia Strode demanded in alarm.

Whirling around Laurie's ringleted ponytail whipped and she faced her mother with wide flashing-grey eyes.

"Mom! You scared me!" Laurie let her arms slacken and the hammer hung harmlessly.

Looking around her, Cynthia frowned, " _You're_  not going to break down these cabinets are you? I told your father to hire someone to do it! He's always been a tightwad but to use child labor...and his own child too…"

"Mom! I'm 19! I'm not a child! He said if I did this he'd help me buy a car for college. 'Gotta earn it honey. Money doesn't grow on trees'" the girl bassed her voice for the imitation.

"So get a job like a normal person!"

"This is work! And you know how I like to break stuff!" Grinned Laurie, bobbing her eyebrows giddily.

Cynthia shook her head but raised her hands in surrender, "Whatever. I just want this done. I don't know how long I'll be able to live without a kitchen! And put on those safety goggles, those are your new glasses aren't they?"

"Yeah." Laurie nodded. "I will. Hey are you going now?"

"Yes. Now I'll pick your father up after work and we'll just leave from there. You'll be alright here all weekend by yourself?" brooded her mother as she looked through her purse for her keys.

Laurie began to swing the hammer like a pendulum playfully, "Yep. Annie will probably come over to stay a night or something. I have tons of homework so I'll be home a lot."

Her mother came over to give her a hug and kiss on the cheek, "You be careful with that thing. I don't want to get a call that you're in the hospital ok?"

Laurie reassured her mother and walked her to the door and waved as she left in the car. Then she went back inside and closed the door.

"Whoops." She said as she had forgotten to lock the deadbolt and hurried to do so.

Then she started back into the kitchen, her phone vibrated in her back pocket and she took it out to see a message from her friend Lynda. 'Going clubbin' tonight. Dress up baby.' it read with a heart eyed emoji.

Laurie couldn't help but smile and typed back that she had to do homework, knowing full well her friend would moan at her for being lame. But this was the end of her first year of college and she was at a 3.9 gpa. She wanted to keep her marks high and finals were coming up in the next couple months. It had always been that way. She was the 'lame', 'innocent', 'smart' one and Lynda and Annie the party girls. But they had been friends since Jr. High. Laurie knew she could be shy but she had a streak of wildness in her that would surface every now and again. At their senior hike she was the only one out of their group of friends that jumped from a cliff 40 feet into a lake. Laurie had been living off of that glory for some time.

Back in the kitchen, she picked up the sledge again and turned back to the cabinets. Winding up again she swung the hammer at the outdated, honey-stained oak. It bounced right off and almost made her lose her balance. She would have to youtube how to do this.

But soon she was pummeling the wood to splinters. A good, angry song with lots of foul language on pandora coercing her on in her rush of destruction. It took her most of the day to get the top cabinets down and she decided to just start on the end of the bottom row.

She had grown up in this house since she was seven. Her parents had built it and they had lived there as a family with many happy memories and a few bad. In this kitchen she had fallen off the counter and broken her arm, learned to make pizza, salsa, cookies and almost burnt the place down trying to make french fries with Lynda. Now it really did need a face lift. But Laurie would remember how it looked before, not just in her mind, she'd taken pictures for posterity.

After a good beating, the end cabinet caved and Laurie began to jerk at the large pieces. When they came away she found things that had somehow wedge themselves under the shelvings. Crayons, refrigerator magnets, hair bows and old food. A mouse skeleton she found probably would have caused any normal girl her age to cringe but things like that didn't bother her. She swept them up as well as a curious collection of old mail that must have fallen through the cracks where they had always kept the trash bin under the counter.

All of it was junk mail mostly but one. It looked like a personal letter, the address handwritten. Strange enough it was opened and addressed her: Laurie Strode; postmarked over three years ago. She was about to throw it away but for the sake of not wanting to start her english writing assignment she lifted the flap of the dusty envelope.

Inside was a wadded, tissue of some sort, pressed flat with years of being wedged in its hiding spot. For some reason it grossed her out more than the dead bugs and mouse droppings she had found. But there was something on it and she had gloves on so she unfolded it. It was toilet paper and on it was a message written in black paint. That must have been difficult to do without tearing the delicate 'parchment' she thought, letting her eyes glide over the crudely fashioned letters. But someone had taken the time and effort to do it and she began to read.

' _Boo, I don't know where you are. I think you are ok. I miss you. I don't think they'll ever let me out to see you. If they tell you about me it will make you scared of me, they are all scared of me because of what happened. But you and me, we know and that makes me not feel alone. As long as I'm not alone I can live through this. You saw it Angel. All the blood. You should have died too but I got you. She did it not me. The lady in white. If I get away from here, I will find you. Michael Myers.'_

It took Laurie a few times through to decipher some of the smeared and ill-shaped words and choppy sentences. Whoever Michael Myers was, he had used weird names like 'Boo' and 'Angel' even though it was her name on the envelope. At first she thought it was just some joke and it kind of creeped her out. She took it over to the large garbage can that was almost full with smaller debris and tossed it on the top.

And that should have been the end of it but even as she showered, ate leftover take out and sat in front of her laptop up in her room, Laurie couldn't help but think of the odd letter. It was like something was stirring in her that she had forgotten. The past before. Before her life now, another life. Words and obscure references from the message roused unclear but familiar memories as she lay in her bed unable to sleep.

The next day she was going to go shopping with Annie. Her phone chimed her text alert 'Here mama' and Laurie grabbed her purse and headed down the stairs. She had tried to put the letter out of her mind but even as she went to the front door she stopped and glanced back towards the kitchen.

When her parents got home Sunday evening they were greeted by a dusty but proud looking daughter who brought them into the cleared kitchen.

"Hauled the pieces out to the dumpster, saved the hardware and put it up for auction on ebay  _and_  got my essay done. What do you think dad? A BMW or a Lexus? I think this is a ferrari quality job…" Laurie brandished her most adorable smile knowing Mason Strode couldn't resist it.

"Looking really good in here honey!" he admitted, "Let's see how you do with tiling first before we up the ante."

"Mason," his wife had witnessed the playful sway her daughter had over her husband for years and knew when he was out of his depth, "Why don't you call over to Zita's and see if we can pick up dinner before their rush…"

But Laurie jumped in, "Oh no. I've already made dinner! I got a roast in the crockpot in the bathroom that has been going all day and I already got rolls and salad I got ready at Annie's. Not to mention dad's favorite lemon bars."

The mercilessness of the manipulation didn't seem to be letting up and Mr. Strode put his arm around Laurie's shoulders with the grin of a very happy and manipulable man.

"When you raise a kid right, you raise a kid right." He gave her a quick kiss on the hair, "You're the best angel girl."

His words caught her and her smile drooped a little but she quickly propped it up and soon they were sitting down to supper in their dining room. The appetizing smells of seasoned meat and baked rolls mingled in the air as Mr. and Mrs. Strode told Laurie about their weekend trip to Chicago. Family dinners were a tradition and Laurie knew once she was accepted to a university outside of Haddonfield where she would have to move away, she would miss it.

Slicing and serving the lemon bars, Laurie sat back down. The letter she had retrieved from the garbage not far from her focused thoughts after her father had called her 'angel'.

Mrs. Strode, as she poured herself a glass of wine, was complaining of the calories as her husband enjoyed a bite. Laurie hadn't touched her own piece and there was a break in the conversation so she decided she might as well ask.

"So, who is Michael Myers?"

Her mother was just about to take a sip from her glass when it slipped from her fingers, bounced off her lap and broke when it hit the hardwood floor.

This was definitely not the reaction Laurie was expecting as her parents stared at her aghast; the warm, pleasant mood completely vacuumed from the room.

It took a couple of seconds for sound to catch up to her mother's working mouth.

"Mich….who have you been talking to Laurie!?" her tone severe and eyes darting over to Mason who had taken on the attitude of a statue with a fork protruding from his mouth.

It was how Laurie would have imagined them acting if she had told them she was pregnant or needing to be bailed out of jail.

Suddenly she wondered if she should tell them about the letter at all because, the envelope had been opened and who else would have thrown it away?

"I just...read it somewhere, on an old piece of paper I found…" Laurie hated lying but she was beyond curious now.

"What paper?! Where?!" Her mother heated with some following profanity she let slip out.

Cynthia Strode didn't curse often and it usually took more than just saying someone's name to invoke it.

"Cynthia, calm down now. Let's not make more of this than it is." Mason had broke from his own stupor to try to assuage the tension.

Tearing her eyes from Laurie, Cynthia and Mason shared a silent exchange then her father cleared his throat.

"A paper Laurie?" he asked gently.

With a honed perception, Laurie studied them but shrugged, "Yeah. Just some torn...paper. That name was all I could read on it...I threw it in the trash and it's probably at the dump now. Should I have kept it? Sorry, I didn't know it was so important..."

If they hadn't already shown obvious cold favor for the name, their residual hesitation to make lightly of the whole thing now had Laurie convinced something was wrong.

Only now did Cynthia glance at the shards of curved glass on the floor and curse again.

Leaning forward with his arms on the table, Mason still looked too serious, "That name is just from an accident a long time ago Laurie. Something both your mother and I have moved on from. It's nothing to do with you alright?"

If it had nothing to do with her then why was her name on the envelope? She wanted to press it but didn't dare. It was obvious there was something horribly agitating about this for them, something not worth revisiting, worth lying over. So Laurie decided to let it rest for now.

With a quick smile she started to get up, "Sure, sorry. Here mom I'll grab the broom and the trash and a towel."

Sheepishly, Cynthia nodded, "Oh thank you sweetheart. I'm sorry. It must have been the long drive that has me wound up."

And the rest of the night was normal without mention of the name 'Michael Myers'.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. All original characters and plot are the property of the author. No copyright infringement is intended.

Peeling off her gloves after treating a cellulitis infection on another patient, Sammy tossed them into the biowaste bag and sighed. It had been a long day, a long week. One week exactly since he had come after her.

Why she always parked the medcart right in front of his door she had finally decided was indeed an obsessive compulsion. She had wanted to help him so badly and now he was right back where he started. Maybe worse. Klein had ordered that neither she nor Winters would have access to speaking to him. Yes Amanda came back just today, against medical advice of course. In the hospital for near strangulation she wore a bulky neck brace that she ineffectively tried to hide with a silk scarf. So far, she wouldn't even look at Sammy, as if she blamed her for what happened.

Dismay made Sammy breath sharply like she was in pain and she stepped around to stand in front of Michael's door. Somehow she knew he blamed her too. He had ventured to ask her for help, by making her the mask. Then it seemed that after a little while, he finally looked up at her, as if on the edge of trust. Then Amanda came and in a way, hurt him. Strange to think of it that way. All of her assumptions of progress with him were only that, assumptions. But Sammy should have stopped Amanda because she knew full well that he was not ready for the confrontation of his past. Sammy felt she had let them both down.

Michael sat with his back to her, to the world as always, at his desk. She didn't check the slot to the door, she knew he hadn't touched the peanut she had put there that morning just as he'd ignored the others for the week.

"He's sulking."

Conner's voice near her ear made her jump and she bumped into the medcart behind her.

Taking a deep breath to calm herself she glared at her friend who always would have that teasing personality but she could see he was also trying to be sensitive.

"Well, that isn't a crime." Sammy turned away to look at her list, trying to look unbothered.

"Shoving a table into somebody's neck is though. Look, you gotta quit making excuses for him. You gotta accept him for who he is Sam. He's a killer. That kind of makes it hard for him to get along with other people. If he wasn't so insane they'd have probably given him a death sentence a long time ago. It's not fair to you...or to him to expect anything more of him."

Sammy forced herself to not look back at the door. She hated that Conner may be right. It would be a huge blow to her belief that everyone could improve, maybe not to the point of complete rehabilitation, but even a little. Michael Myers may have just proved her completely wrong.

"Maybe." She didn't want to talk about it; it felt like something was wedged in her chest and it hurt to even move.

She handed Conner Lacey's pills after checking them thoroughly.

He took them but stayed where he was, "Hey, what are you doing after work today? I mean, I get off at the same time and I was thinking of going to play pool at that sketchy place down on fourth. You should come? If you beat me I'll buy you some nachos with jalapenos on them. I know you're addicted to jalapenos."

How he could be so irritating and charming at the same time? Sammy stubbornly fought back a low smile futilely.

So she consented and they decided to go right after work. Sammy had an outfit she'd just bought and left in her trunk and went out to get it to change. Somehow the idea of going back into the sanitarium repulsed her so she looked around to make sure no one else was there but Conner who was doing the same over by his truck. She pulled the skirt on over her scrub bottoms then slipped them off. Conner had already changed by the time she had taken her scrub top off, leaving her camisole. She was removing the tag to the blouse and was going to put on when he walked over to her.

"Looks good as is Loomis, you got some nice shoulders you should share with the world." he grinned.

Rolling her eyes she began to unbutton the shirt so she could get it on but he grabbed it and playfully held it too high for her to reach.

"Conner! I'm going to shove a table into you if you don't give me my shirt!" She growled at him, trying not to laugh. He dangled it just above her fingers and she jumped to get at it only to have him pull it away.

"I knew there was some freudian reason you wanted to work at a nut house for serial killers. You have repressed aspirations of your own!" he held it above his own head and leaned his back on her car so that she was practically climbing on him to get a hold of it. "Come and get it killer."

Her arms reaching either side of his head he finally let her have it but put his hands to her sides as she still laid against him. With a pleased smirk he kept her there even though she tried to push herself off.

"See, I also knew you couldn't resist this right here." And he put his head to hers.

And she let him kiss her. It didn't feel completely right. Not like it had with other guys she'd liked in the past but for some reason that made her want to do it all the more. She let it escalate intensely.

A car door shutting had them break apart and both looked to see Amanda just two rows away. She started her car and peeled out recklessly on her way out of the parking lot.

Sammy shuddered to think the woman had heard any of their conversation.

Remembering Conner coming from her office Sammy looked back at him, "Conner. Are you dating Amanda?"

Immediately he shook his head, "No way, you know I only chase you around."

* * *

It was just after 4am when Conner brought a set of clean sheets to the door on the bottom floor and the window was completely dark. It made him slow his step because Myers never turned off his lamp. Knowing better than to try to just peer in like everyone else would, Conner kept his distance and called in.

"Mikey? It's dark in there buddy. Your bulb go out?"

Pulling his phone from his pocket, he turned on the flashlight and held it to the window. When he didn't see Michael immediately there he stepped closer to look in. The chair was empty and so was the naked mattress on the metal bed frame. Then he heard the labored yet quiet huff and turned the beam of light to the ground closer to him. There he could see Myers doing pushups.

It struck him as funny. He'd seen Myers pacing, standing up or sitting down to his desk, but this would definitely be a blow to the boogeyman's occultism; like when he was brushing his teeth. But Conner knew a lot of the patient's secrets and being Myers' caretaker for so long, he could be just as human as anyone else. It was a bit of a let down.

So he opened the floor access to slip the sheets in, taking care to keep his hands clear of the hole.

"Sorry these didn't get to you until now. Laundry's behind. But hey, got some mail for ya! You know we're supposed to just throw these random ones away? Who's got your back huh bro?"

Sitting down next to the door, at a good distance, Conner pulled out a stack of letters that had already been opened and began to read them.

It was amazing how many crazy people, guys, chicks, old and young wanted a piece of a serial killer. To be honest, Michael barely even met the definition. It was the hype and exaggeration around it that made him seem like a fiendish monster. Still, after deflating Myers' reputation Conner had to admit, he was still creeped out by the freak. He dismissed it thinking it was all in his head probably.

After some sultry and some outright hilarious offers of marriage and other activities, Conner put the letters back in his pocket and listened. The laboured breathing still continued, steady as a clock. It had been maybe thirty or fourty minutes reading and the guy was still doing push ups, or sit ups or whatever.

"So just an update, finally got somewhere with Loomis. Sucked her face off a couple days ago. Oh the places that tongue could go...I mean, still places to go obviously but you know how she is. Gotta say she's got it over Winters' too." chuckled Conner, "Man, so Winter's saw us in the parking lot and she's been texting me nonstop ever since. Jealous psycho-hooch...no offence…anyway, Now she's more mad at me for being with Loomis than with you for trying to decapitate her with the table. She makes me nervous man. She knows about the pills right? Sometimes in these situations I think, 'What would Mikey do?' then I remember, 'Yeah, he'd just sit there...or would he…?'."

Sighing, Conner stared up at the little camera bubble just down the hall, "But just so you know, we're still cool ok? Just because you tried to kill my girlfriend, well both of them. Bros first right? I'll get a new bulb for ya Michelangelo." he laughed as he slid the doors shut and locked them.

Standing up he stretched; then he paused because he didn't hear the breathing and he looked to the window. A deformed profile stood back from the door but the lights of the hallway glowed off the side of Michael's unpainted, white mask.

* * *

Standing there, Michael could hear Conner footsteps plodding away from him. He could hear him going to the stair doors at the end of the hall. Conner liked the stairs. He had said during one of his rants that elevators bothered him.

When it was quiet again, Michael went to the door. He punched it, then punched it again and again. The strikes quaking the air, other patients began to call out and wail. He finally stopped, not because he couldn't continue or because his hand was a mess. Pain was a welcome sensation and it usually drove him all the more. His hand, although bleeding now was not broken. He never seemed to take injury easily. He finally quit because he had been dragged into the depths of his memory despite the effort to keep himself present.

The photos on the table. The lights had been so bright and they were burned into his mind's eye. Even now he could see them. But they looked different. His mother's smiling face was pale and she was trying to talk to him but the blood in her throat gurgled the words he could just make out. That she was sorry, it was all her fault and to go to Angel. Now he was back in his

house. The knife he had pulled from his mother's belly in his hand, he stepped over Judith and walked calmly to the bedroom where Angel was.

' _Michael. Whatever happened, you don't have to let it control you now_.' the soothing voice came from nowhere.

Loomis.

...Angel.

* * *

All three girls huddled under a blanket on the couch. The corny chick-flick on the screen had just come to an end and the credits rolled up with an even cornier song playing.

"And that's why we should all date supernatural beings instead of mortal men." sighed Annie who picked at a popcorn kernel in her teeth.

Lynda felt around under the blanket until Annie squealed and jumped, "Lyn! You perv!"

Laughing at her friends, Laurie took out her phone to check the time. After midnight and she had to be to class by 7am.

"Gotta go you guys." She said flipping back the blanket and trying to get out of Lynda's devouring leather couch.

"Ok nerd." snorted Lynda but she slapped her friend's rear as it went by.

With a squeak Laurie said, "Got class!"

"Not my fault you signed up for all the early ones!" Lynda was less than sympathetic.

Grabbing her keys Laurie stretched, "Well I'll catch you guys for lunch tomorrow then?"

"Sure!" Annie assured her.

Laurie hadn't really paid attention to the movie, she had been fairly distracted all week since what had happened with her parents the previous Sunday. They had said it was a personal matter and Laurie respected that. But still, her name on the letter had her wondering.

"Hey," she said, lingering. "You ever hear of someone named Michael Myers?"

The two girls looked up to her curiously.

"Some guy from school?" Asked Annie with a smile creeping up her cheeks.

Rolling her eyes, Laurie quickly spoke, "No! Just saw some old paper with his name on it and it seemed to really freak my parents out when I asked so…"

Popping up from the couch, Lynda snatched Laurie's phone from her, "I thought you were the smart one Laur!" She hit the voice recognition, "Siri, who is Michael Myers?"

After the tone, 'Siri' spoke, "Michael Myers was convicted of murdering 3 people including his mother and two acquaintances on October 31, 2000 in Haddonfield Illinois at the age of 10. More results available."

All three girls' eyes widened and they looked to each other.

"That can't be right." Said Laurie. "I've never heard of the name Myers. Try the next one."

"I don't know babe, it said something about this happening here in Haddonfield!" Lynda thumbed through the listings. "Hey listen, he's the one they call the 'boogeyman'."

Annie pulled the blanket around her closer, "I always wondered where that came from. Why do you think they'd know him?"

Laurie didn't want to mention the letter and the fact that it had her name on it. This couldn't be right and she decided she'd look through the other results. Still, her ego was a bit offended that Lynda had done an internet search when Laurie hadn't thought of it.

"There's a dentist named Michael Myers in Rockford." giggled Lynda, "Bet he gets a lot of business."

"Pretty big coincidence the dude's from Haddonfield…" Annie persisted at what was gnawing on Laurie's thoughts. "Maybe your parents knew the family or the 'acquaintances'?"

Sudden frustration had Laurie grab her phone from Lynda's fingers and stuff it in her pocket rashly, "I don't know. It's none of my business anyway…and quit snatching my phone!"

"Geez Laur, chill." Lynda threw Annie a look, "Mine's always dead anyway..."

But Laurie was already heading to the front door, "I'll see you guys tomorrow. I'm going to bed."

But she didn't. She went home and looked up the name for herself, purposefully skipping the first listing for the more 'believable' ones. The dentist, someone selling their car, some troll on twitter. None of it made sense, but neither did some crazy knifer from 15 years ago. Leaning back in her seat at her desk Laurie folded her arms across her chest and let out a long, stressed breath. Why did this even matter? She was far too busy to be chasing some old family mystery. She had always trusted her parents before. They would never keep something from her she didn't need to know. Secrets were not kept in their house.

Letting her eyes go to her statistics book, Laurie grabbed it and went to a specific page. The folded toilet paper slid out and Laurie read it again.

' _If they tell you about me it will make you scared of me. They are all scared of me because of what happened_.' She frowned, scanning further down, ' _You saw it Angel. All the blood_.'

The words of a practical joker or a serial killer? It could be either. Laurie looked back up to the computer screen and selected the Haddonfield killer boy result and read.

The neighborhood was clear across town, in a declining area. The house had been unoccupied in all that time, not torn down. It was at the edge of the woods.

On halloween, the 10 year old boy was found amid the carnage of his dead mother, seriously injured older sister and the sister's dead boyfriend. The body of an adult man was found downstairs. With the boy was his five year old sister who was unharmed.

Looking back to the 'letter', Laurie read again. ' _You should have died too but I got you_.'

Was 'Boo' or 'Angel' this little girl? His sister? There was no information on the little girl. Her name or what happened to her.

What did this have to do with her parents? What was the connection? The envelope was also wedged into the book. Laurie's name clearly written there in different handwriting. Maybe it was because she had already suspected it but the idea was so hateful she had banished it. Now it clawed its way back to the front of her thinking. Her father's whispered in a thousand memories in her head, ' _Angel girl...Angel._ ' The age was right but her parents had told her they'd moved out to California and adopted her there. She had always known she was adopted but she couldn't have...come from this. A warm numbness came over her and Laurie felt herself stand up and go to her bed and lay down.

* * *

The air conditioning system was broken and Smith's Grove Sanitarium's halls were stale, humid and sweltering in early June. It made the patients irritable, it made the staff more so. There had been fights, fits and fainting to deal with in both groups.

Now at the end of the day, the energy saving lights were on but the heat did not dwindle. The patients wailed in their rooms and Conner groaned as he passed their doors on his way up to

the top. He had an odd shift today, arriving at lunchtime and now getting off at 11pm. He thought it would be a good idea to not wear a t-shirt under his scrub top but now the stiff polyester was itchy and sticking to his damp skin.

Turning off into the stairway he pulled out his phone. It got decent reception here and he thumbed a quick message. Climbing the stairs his feet felt heavy and he was restless. He hoped Sammy would answer soon. He wanted go over to her place.

The message buzzed when he made it to the top floor and started to walk through the security door.

Reading it he frowned. She was tired and in bed. That would save a few steps he texted back but she immediately replied she wasn't willing. Jaw muscles tightening in frustration he jammed the phone back in his pocket and turned the corner. From a darkened door something reached out and took hold of his arm, pulling him sideways and he stumbled into the room.

"Uh…!" he caught himself but was pushed up against the wall roughly.

"'Manda." he managed before she began pressed her lips to his hard. He smiled and responded, pulling her to him. She had stopped wearing the neck brace all too early, hating the sight of it.

Breathless words escaped from the breaks in the kiss.

"You...won't see her…anymore." Amanda commanded, digging her fingers into his neck.

Conner almost laughed and swung her around into the wall roughly.

"You don't like to share?"

She bit at him, "No. And especially when it's Loomis."

"That's too bad. I'm having a good time with her. I think I'll stick it out." he grinned at her and earned a push making him take a step back. Something fell from under his shirt and Amanda squinted in the dim light to see one of Michael Myers' masks.

"What are you doing with that?" She asked as she breathed fervently.

Snatching it up Conner put it back in his waistband under his shirt. "Hey, they sell on ebay for a couple hundred…"

"I'll tell her." Winters interrupted, slinging back to her original topic.

"You're having an intimate relationship with a subordinate, isn't that against policy? It'd get us both fired." Conner pointed out, unworried.

Narrowing her eyes, Amanda growled, "Where would you pick up your pills then Conner? Masks aren't the only thing you've been taking. You're making most of your money on switching the controls with those sugar pills and selling them to school kids."

This did make his face darken a little.

"Guess we're in a stalemate. Doesn't change anything unless you want to ruin your reputation, especially because you knew about me. They might be able to charge you with something like that."

"Don't push me Conner. Just stay clear of Loomis." Amanda's normally rock solid presence drooped desperately.

Readjusting his uniform, Conner shook his head, "You're the one that needs to be careful Amanda. I don't like being threatened."

He went back out the door leaving her fuming.

* * *

It had taken a couple of weeks to get permission from Klein but on Michael's birthday, Sammy was able to take his piece of cake down to the bottom floor. It was chocolate with vanilla frosting and most inmates who weren't in solitary confinement got a song from everyone in the common room. An orderly accompanied Sammy and she was glad it wasn't Conner today. It would be the first chance she'd gotten to talk to Michael since that day.

Looking into the gloom of the little cell, Sammy made sure he was at his desk and then bent to open the lower access. The space there was clear and Sammy slid the cake through the slot.

"Michael? It's me, Miss Loomis. I brought you some cake for your birthday. There's no mayonnaise in it I promise." She called and the orderly snickered behind her.

She frowned up at him and shook her head and the older man tried to bite off his grin.

Taking a breath, Sammy looked back to the opening and spoke towards it, "I would like to say I'm sorry for what happened. I take some responsibility as your...counselor and I hope you forgive me. But Michael, I'm very disappointed by what you did. I know you were taught better and that you are able to control yourself. You're a person, not an animal."

She didn't bother to look up at the orderly, she could hear him sighing at her wasted efforts. The pessimism that orbited about so many of these patients frustrated her, especially for Michael.

But he had proven them right and now she couldn't be upset with him. He was what he was.

"I brought you a present too. Happy birthday."

In her scrub pocket she took out a small mp3 player with a built in speaker that could fit in her hand. She hadn't had a chance to figure out any sort of music that Myers might like, it was hard when he gave no visual reactions to any of the samples she had let him listen to. So, remembering his 'KISS' t shirt he had worn in two of the pictures of him as a boy that she had seen, she put one of their popular albums on and then some other bands of the same genre. Then she put a mix of absolutely everything. Hip Hop, jazz, new age, popular rock, country, techno and dubstep. She reached through to set it down carefully by the cake.

The appearance of the large hand had her gasp as it wrapped around her wrist, gripping tightly. There had been no warning, no sound of movement from within and now there was no help for it. Knowing Myer's strength he could bend her arm and break it easily, the image of Amanda trapped mercilessly by the table flashed in her mind; Sammy could only imagine what was going to happen to her now.

The orderly pushed himself off the wall to dash over to her, trying to pull her away but Michael had her and wasn't letting go. Grabbing for his taser, the orderly started to speak into his walkie talkie. But during this time Sammy had noticed Michael had made no move to hurt her yet. Even his hold, although sound, was not vicious.

"Wait Billy." She managed to say, taking the orderly's hands from her with her other. "Wait a minute ok?"

Still her adrenaline made her shake but she relaxed her arm muscles and quit pulling away.

"Michael, please let me go."

She felt his fingers tighten, as if to prepare to for action. To pull her arm through the hole until it was torn from her shoulder? She swallowed at the panic.

"Let me go." she forced herself to be quiet and calm.

What seconds ticked by were long ones. Then his grip softened, letting blood into her buzzing fingers with a warm rush. But he did not completely let go. For a moment Sammy wondered if he was trifling with her and would yet finish delimbing her when she pulled back. But she did so slowly, the skin of her hand brushing along his calloused palm, his fingers still closed around hers but they did not inhibit her withdraw.

"Thank you." She murmured retracting her hand from the slot slowly.

She locked the access and stood. Michael had stood as well, his masked face framed in the window. This one had red and blue paint smeared on it familiarly. Almost like the clown mask she had seen in the pictures and that Winters had produced during the session.

He didn't look directly at her but stood with his head bowed and shoulders slanted and relaxed.

Had it been his way of showing her he was indeed in control and would hurt her or anyone whenever he could? Or was it a strange, morbid way of showing good faith?

What she did know was that it was intriguing as poor a judgement as it was. She could still feel the touch of his hand as her had pulled away and she couldn't help but want to continue their sessions.

Looking back at the orderly she smiled a bit reassuringly.

"Billy. You don't have to tell anyone. Everything's ok."

Apprehensively the man just nodded, glancing from her to the window.

As soon as she had a break in her schedule she was in Klein's office entreating him to reconsider. That she would take precautions and that she would assure him that Myers would not erupt again as long as it was only her who spoke to the him.

"I cannot risk it Loomis, I could loose my job if I do not keep order here. I gave you a chance…"

"I wouldn't have pushed him like Amanda did. It would have never happened if I hadn't let her push him." Sammy sailed over Klein's refusal. "Please, I think there is hope for him!"

There was no way she was going to tell him what had happened at his door and so all she had to convince the man with was her enthusiasm and that he had been so placid before with the exception of looking up at her.

Klein, sitting at his desk, lowered his head into his hands, rubbing his temples as if to fend off a headache. But he seemed to be considering it and Sammy let him have a moment to do so. Her eyes flitted about the office again and this time caught on one of the more mundane paintings. She had seen it before, a ship on a stormy sea and of course was untouched by it for it could have been a generic picture in any doctor's office. Or any other business office for that matter. But now she looked closer and realized there were sharks in those waters, and the boat, it wasn't a spanish galleon like most were. It was scandinavian, or some nordic style; a serpent's head curving up from it's bow and a single square sail ripped and flapping in the tempest.

Such paintings she had seen in psychiatrists' offices would symbolize as lost mind. Tossed about on the waves of mania, unable to reach a safe birth of function and comfort.

"I need to think on it Loomis." Klein interrupted her own skewed contemplation, "Until I make a decision, please observe Myers' solitary status. And for goodness sake, don't tell Winters for now. Why do I think Myers' will be the end of you?"


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. All original characters and plot are the property of the author. No copyright infringement is intended.

Sitting at a table in the quad of the community college, Laurie typed furiously on her laptop, trying to capture any sort of thesis she could for her final english paper that was due at the end of the week. Usually she found writing easy if not dull but her ability to focus had not been at it's best since she had found that letter.

_Her_  name had been on it. Not her mother's or her father's. The conundrum shouldn't have any affect on her for she had a good life. She was in school, had a wonderful family and ambitions for her future. So how was it that she couldn't shake this invisible hold upon her thoughts that spurred her to want to resolve the mystery?

Laurie had done some research but had yet to make any connection with the Myers family or the two male associations who died to her own family. Police reports, public court record all gave her clear facts and even some graphic detail that she just as soon not have read. But she knew the address of the house and the names of those who died. She knew that two sisters survived but the names were not listed in the civil records. Michael Myers was 6 years older than her and was residing at a hospital for the criminally insane less than a 40 minute drive away. It had all happened so close yet she still lacked that link to her. Why send it to her? Even if it were a joke and not from the real Michael Myers?

She wanted to ask her parents so badly but she expected them to be muzzled about it like they had been when she first brought it up.

And now she was doing it again, letting her thoughts wander. Scolding herself she got back to work and finally turned out her first draft. But that's all she had in her and she gathered her things up and decided to go home.

However her car, as it came to a halt was not in her driveway.

Parking along a trash filled curb Laurie looked around at the numbers on the little houses around her, trying to make sure the end one was the one she was looking for. It had no numbers on it but she was sure it had to be it.

Number 45.

An old, sun bleached baby swing hung from one rope from the branch of a maple tree. Swaying with the hot summer breeze, it dragged the other rope back and forth over the dead grass of the front yard. Plastic bags caught in the overgrown shrubs and the crannies of the abandoned house on Lampkin Street.

This was an area past it's prime and now had gone to seed. But even in an area of urban decay, this small, two story house looked like a rotting cavity. Even the other houses, as run down as they were, seemed to shy away from it as if it's malaise was contagious. Shingles of the roof had sloughed off leaving holes into the ribs of the rafters and the drab, grey paint was peeling from the warped wood showing in some places an underskin of faded yellow. Almost every window had been broken out and the weather stained curtains had shredded themselves on the shards that remained.

Like a person, it's past had doomed it future and obviously no one had wanted to move into a house that had staged the horrific murders this one had. Of course it had been frequented by vagrants, meth mixers, stray animals and vandalizing kids but no one had ever called it home again.

A distant siren sounded as she braved to open her door and step out into the road. It looked as if there were woods behind the back yards on this side and a murder of crows lifted from the branches.

A strange, ironic coincidence that terminology.

A little chain link fence in sore condition wrapped about the yard, the gate propped open and held there by a tangle of morning glory. Laurie could see through the upstairs windows through the ceiling to the sky and the modest, fluted columns that held up the little porch leaned slightly. Fifteen years had not been kind. All the downstairs windows had been boarded up. Notices of condemnation had yet to be followed through on but plastered the particle board that covered the door. A dank, foul smell exhaled from the openings and made Laurie gag and put her hand to her nose. There was dingy graffiti layering what she could see of the walls inside through some cracks, many poorly spray painted pictures of jack-o-lanterns.

What she thought she would learn here she didn't know. To go inside...it would take some coaxing and perhaps the company of Annie or Lynda. Despite the heat, Laurie shivered and turned to go. Walking back down the cracked pavement to the street her toe caught on something and she looked down to see the empty front forks of a bicycle frame drowning in weeds. But it wasn't that that held her and made her peer closer. There were markings in the cement, just covered with old vegetation and Laurie squatted to pull the vines away. It was the impressions left after drawing in wet cement, a date. 1998. Three hand prints of different sizes and names under them were revealed with some more clearing and Laurie stared.

'Judith' under the largest that couldn't have been more than twelve perhaps. 'Michael', written by a kindergartener's scrawling finger, was under a smaller hand. It came to Laurie that that hand would someday do something terrible and it made her skin crawl. The last was tiny, a baby's hand. Under it was written elegantly 'Angel' and then the same childish writing as before added 'Boo'.

It all came together with a force. Judith and Angel  _were_  Michael's sisters. The ones that survived? The letter addressed his sister. It was for her. And Michael Myers called her Boo...Angel. Laurie just couldn't allow the last piece. That she might be Angel Myers. It was impossible. She had been adopted in California. With shaking, fumbling fingers, she took a picture with her phone and then hurried back to her car.

There was panic twitching in her muscles and she ran a red light. Her phone began to chime a Sia song for Lynda's call but Laurie ignored it and continued home. Her parent's cars were not in the driveway nor in the garage and Laurie walked swiftly up the stairs to their room.

Cynthia always kept her important papers in filing boxes in the top of her closet and Laurie dragged a chair over to reach the high shelves. One by one she took down the boxes and delved into searching the papers. Old car slips, certificates of achievement, pictures and letters. In the second box she found more of the same until she saw a thick manila envelope with her name on it. 'Laurie'. Taking it out she went to sit on the bed and dumped out the contents. She found old school registration papers, immunization records and school photos. Then, in a clear sleeve, was a birth certificate and other papers. On the certificate it said Laurie Strode which allowed her to sigh in relief until she saw that it was an Illinois birth document, not from California. There was also papers behind it and she worked them out. The other documents read, 'petition for name-change' and the last was another birth certificate that read 'Angel Deborah Myers'.

The world began to tilt and break around her. The shock causing her to forget to breath but she forced her eyes to read and reread the words. It was not a nightmare, she was awake. It was reality and she hated herself for insisting upon appeasing her curiosity.

When her mother came in the door, she found Laurie with the papers at the dining room table, spread out in a sort of formula. The birth certificate with her new name came first, then the tissue letter and petition followed by the original certificate and finally the downloaded picture on her computer of the handprints in the walk. Cynthia looked on cautiously as she took in the scene before her. For the ghastly and paled look on her face, she might have just walked in on the punctured bodies of the dead herself.

"I'm Angel Myers." Laurie declared hollowly, surveying all she had in front of her.

The hesitation in Cynthia's reply only further drove the validity of her discovery.

"No. You're Laurie Strode. You have been for fifteen years."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Laurie didn't know if she was angry for being deceived or mourning the chilling roots she now found herself a part of.

Slowly, her mother pulled a chair out from the table and sat down. Leaning away from the exposed evidence on the table she tensed her eyebrows at Laurie.

"You're a very clever girl Laurie, you must have figured that out as well." Cynthia said.

A tingling in her eyes and the pressure in her nose warned Laurie that she was about to cry and she did not want to cry.

"But why? Why tell me I was from California and…"

"That was...for other reasons. When we adopted you, they told us where you came from and what had happened. You...had testified at...Myers' trial and there was a concern to keep you safe." Cynthia offered vaguely.

"Safe?"

"Yes Laurie. From anyone who may be fixated on the overly publicised case. We wanted to completely detach you from that life. So that in school you were not harassed or teased for it. We didn't even tell your grandparents! You deserved a chance and we loved you so much. We wanted you to have a normal life free of the choices and actions of...the Myers'. You were innocent Lauire!" Her mother struggled to keep her voice solid but it cracked with emotion.

Laurie balked at it all. Overwhelmed and confused. She had testified? She had lived for four years with those people? She had no memory of it. The house, her family, the trial, Michael...nothing.

She understood why they kept it from her but it didn't soothe the sickening twist that she felt in her chest at knowing the same blood that was spilt, that flowed through  _his_  veins was in hers as well.

"I...how do I…" She couldn't organize her feelings or thoughts, "My brother, Michael Myers is a killer…"

Hands took her shoulders and jerked her to face Cynthia, fingers digging into her skin, "You listen to me Laurie Strode. That man...that demon, isn't your brother. He's locked away forever. It has nothing to do with you do you understand? You will go on with your life as you always have. A beautiful, wonderful person who is going to make a good future for herself and leave this buried like it should be."

The tears came, slowly blurring her mother's face and overflowing down her cheeks. Laurie felt herself pulled into a tight embrace and she just pushed her face into her mother's neck, wrapping her arms around her. The smell of Cynthia's perfume on her skin was so comforting and she remembered smelling it on her clothes as a child. Did Deborah Myers have a smell? What had she looked like? Had she loved her baby girl?

Laurie just wanted the thoughts to stop. She wanted it to be how it was before when she was blissfully naive, and normal. Now she was scared.

The front door opened and footsteps walked in slowly. Mr. Strode came into the room.

"Something wrong?" he asked.

* * *

Amanda didn't like secrets. Even her own, although she knew she had to have them. When she came to Smith's Grove she made it a point to know as many other people's secrets as possible because that was how you could keep yours safe. Both staff and patients she knew a lot about and it made her authority over them all the more final. She should have never gotten involved with Conner and she knew that now. He had some of the darkest secrets of anyone. Lifting pills from patients and selling them on the street and she suspected him of 'fraternizing' with patients, like Lacey. But that wasn't completely unheard of. She had been in institutions where such things had happened and she didn't endorse them but she could only correct one thing at a time. Klein had let this place disintegrate and it would take years to get it to where Amanda thought it should be.

If she could just quit Conner. She hated that he enticed her. It had crossed her mind often to get him fired but she always found a reason to put it off.

He had really pushed her with Samantha Loomis though. She detested the girl. Everything about her was irritating. She was naive and completely incompetent. How she had ever made it into medical school was a miracle. Most likely her parents had pulled some strings and Amanda held nothing but contempt for those who didn't earn their way into the profession. Loomis was always gooing on the patients like they were her pets and not inmates. Especially Michael Myers.

The audacity of her to play 'shrink and patient' with him was insulting to the practice but Klein had it within his authority to grant the girl the visitations. Amanda had had to find out his secrets, which were very interesting indeed, to gain his allowance to intervene on Loomis and Myers.

Myers was a provocative subject in himself. He did not intimidate her, or he hadn't until he tried to kill her. If she could have worked with him without Loomis there, she was sure that he wouldn't have lashed out.

The opportunity to exercise the man would definitely be something that she could write about and be recognised for should he show improvement. Amanda did not want to work at an institution for the rest of her life. She wanted a large house and a nice private practice to pay for it.

Now she heard from one of the orderlies that Loomis was back at it with Myers, that she had gone against orders and spoken to him. Billy had told her that Myers had grabbed Loomis and was surely going to pull her arm off but the girl had talked him down. Billy told her it was surprising and impressive. This only stoked Amanda's competitive spirit and she wasn't about to let Loomis gain a victory over her.

Now she headed down to the basement during dinner time. All the solitary status inmates had received their dinner trays and most of the staff were upstairs in the common dining area. Conner had told her this was the best time to have privacy with Myers and that he would be down to escort her as soon as he could get away. But she had waited almost twenty minutes without seeing Conner and decided to go on without him.

It was quiet in the hallway and Amanda's heels clicked on the tile as she headed for the door she wanted.

When she arrived she looked in to see the same little scene. Myers' sitting at his desk with the little light barely touching the rest of the room. It was his whole world. His hair had grown some more, long enough to brush the collar of his robe and cover his ears. He had an impressive frame, well built and firm. It was no wonder it took so much to contain him. But that was another of Klein's secrets wasn't it? The reason they had to call in so many orderlies to control him, why the medicines didn't subdue him as they should. Some part of Amanda wanted to see what Myers could really do. Could a bullet stop him?

Sliding her key in the top access she thought she saw him twitch but he went on working.

"Are you not eating Michael?" she called in. It was too dark to see much else in the room. The bed looked to be unmade, the blankets bunched and clothes thrown on it. On the floor was the tray that she could barely make out the soup and toast still sitting there, probably cold by now.

"It's Dr. Winters. I know I haven't spoken to you since everything happened. I understand your anger and how you've come to cope with it. But I still want to try to help you."

To her surprise the hands and arms quit moving and his head pivoted just slightly, putting his ear to her.

Encouraged, Amanda continued, subconsciously tugging at the sheer scarf that she wore to hide the fading bruises about her neck, "I have been thinking about you Michael. Trying to decide what would be best for you. I think there are some new experimental medications that could help you. Not like the ones they gave you when you first were institutionalized. These will calm you. You'd be able to relax and not be bothered with those horrible memories. Wouldn't that be nice?"

Michael Myers stood up from his desk and turned to her, an orange mask with small eye holes and no mouth tied around his head. He started towards her and she immediately stepped back away from the door, keys in hand.

Instinctual fear made her want to walk away as he came to the window, the whites of his eyes floated in the shadows of the eyeholes. But she could see color in them and she locked onto that.

"Amanda." The muffled whisper slithered around the barrier of the mask and through the opening. It made her jump. Michael Myers had spoken. He had said her name and it was intoxicating.

"Very good Michael." She almost laughed. "I'm proud of you."

He tilted his head down humbly and she wanted to hear him again. Wouldn't Loomis be furious over this!

"Can you say your name?" She coaxed him, stepping closer, stooping a little to catch his eye again.

But he continued to look down.

"That's alright. We'll practice that later. You can say whatever makes you comfortable."

But he did whisper something, so quietly and stifled that she couldn't make it out and she stepped closer to the door so that she might not miss his effort again.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you. What did you say?"

His head came up and she could now see his eyes very clearly and they made her suck in her breath. They weren't black.

But his hand shot out through the hole and took hold of her scarf jerking it back through the access.

The shock didn't even register as Amanda was cinched down, her scarf threading into the opening. Then there was no more slack and her face was pressed against the cold metal of the door. The scarf was looped around her neck twice and was tightening. The terror of what happened with the table returned and she tried to scream but the scarf was cutting off her air and continually constricting. Only one hoarse and muted shriek echoed down the empty hallway. Veins bulged on her neck and her face began to redden. With her hands she tried to take the scarf back but it was almost impossible to get a hold of it as it was all but pulled into Myers' room.

"M...M…!" She croaked, but it was as if her own tongue was expanding and choking her. Legs giving way she hung by the scarf, fingers clawing at the door, pounding at it in supplication for mercy. The pressure in her head felt like it would explode.

A clumsy hand fumbled into her pocket and took out her phone. Face still pressed to the door and her vision narrowing she desperately tried to call someone...anyone.

The low voice came again through the door and she understood it but she was so dizzy now. Her gasps erratic and shallow. Finally the phone fell from her fingers and her eyes rolled up. The tension was held for a minute or two longer then released. She fell to the ground.

* * *

Dropping to his knees, Conner looked over Amanda.

"Oh my...Billy!" he shouted as he felt for a pulse but from the discoloration of her skin and the cadaverous look in her face he knew it was too late.

Soon the hallway was stormed by staff. Klein stood at Michael's door looking into the room grimmly. But the man just sat on his bed as if nothing had happened.

"Never again." Klein swore. "I want a watch posted here at all times. No one is to approach this door alone, ever."

Watching them take the body away, Conner felt out of touch and light headed.

* * *

When Conner called Sammy that night she had just gotten in from the grocery store.

Michael had killed Amanda. Strangled her through the door.

Dropping the bags on the couch she didn't respond to his questioning of if she was still on the line or if she could hear him.

Sammy felt completely bewildered, foolish and gullible. She should feel horrified and mournful at what had happened to Amanda and she did. But overriding it all was a breaking point she had finally reached with Myers. Maybe she had crossed the line on how much she had invested her hopes in him, in his abilities to improve. It was clear now that he didn't want to improve. He was a one trick pony with no intention of changing. Sammy felt let down and she knew it was an irrational response but so was what she was about to do.

Driving back to the mental institution, red and blue lights lit up behind her and she bit at the insides of her cheeks. Slowing and pulling off the highway, Sammy slumped in her seat, trying to resign her anger. It was dark, after 9pm and a tall form came up to her window. A hand came to rest on her door with the window down, the fingernails manicured.

"Ma'am. You know why I stopped you?" It was a woman's voice and although she was tall and built, she had a pretty face embellished with simple makeup and her honey blonde hair was french braided and tucked.

"I uh...was I speeding?" Sammy was clueless and still boiling just thinking about what Michael had done.

"Yes you were, almost by 20 miles ma'am. Also you didn't seem to keep a lane. Have you been drinking?"

"No!" Sammy snapped before she could think better of it. "No, I'm sorry. I just, had some bad news. I will be more careful officer."

Taking her driver's licence and registration, the officer whom Sammy passively noted her name as Rathmore, took her time processing her then let her go with a ticket.

"Obey the speed limit." Rathmore warned stepping away from the car and Sammy meekly nodded, thanking her again.

Carefully she pulled onto the road again and drove, mindfully, to the sanitarium.

Maybe the traffic stop should have cooled her off but as soon as she entered the building the heat in her temper began to build again. In cut off jeans and a low neck t shirt she passed through the elopement gates and barely acknowledged the greeting of the guards and night nurses. Going straight to the elevator, Sammy had to wait, pacing until the doors opened and two guards stepped out in the middle of a conversation.

"Tape's choppy at best, got Winters going to the door and getting ringed. Oh hi Miss Loomis. Then it cuts off until Slone finds her…pretty self evident. They really need to rewire this whole place." one of them said as they passed.

Sammy almost stomped into the elevator and burst out when it opened on the bottom floor.

It was quiet again, like normal. But up ahead she could see Conner sitting in a chair across the hall from Myers' door. The man found a dead woman. One he had been close to and worked with, it surprised Sammy that he was still here. But she didn't engage him at all and simply stepped up to Michael's door and started to rap on it sharply.

"Sammy...what are you…" Conner managed to say before Sammy started yelling.

"What is wrong with you!? It's pathetic Michael! This whole thing that you're doing? There's no reason for it and maybe you don't think there has to be. Maybe you just think this is what you've been put down on this earth to do, hurt people. Kill. Does it make you feel better?"

"Sammy…" Conner had stood up and touched at her shoulder to try to gain her attention but she continued.

"I don't think you're even that crazy! I think you're disturbed, I think you're disoriented and sustain a slight social anxiety but you didn't have to do this!" She shouted at the window.

The sitting figure in the cell straightened his slouching posture, his head turning slowly to profile. She could hear the muffled sounds of music inside.

Conner's hand closed around her arm as he tried to shush her and move her away.

"Come on Sam, that's enough…"

Stormily, Sammy twisted away from him, "Leave me alone Conner!" She went back to the window and Michael had stood.

It fueled her anger, that he was reacting to this. The only thing he seemed to react to, hostility and brutality.

"Glad you've decided to live up to everyone's expectations Michael! I thought there was more to you than this but you're dead set on being a monster. Live your dream then!" She almost screamed at him.

At this point Conner had grabbed her around the waist, trying to drag her away, "Sammy! Knock it off!"

"I wanted to help you! You deserve better than this but you can't seem to decide that for yourself! You just as soon give in to whatever is compelling you to do this! Grow up Michael! Just grow up and take responsibility for your life!" Conner was lugging her away.

Sammy shivered and her teeth chattered with the rush of her outburst as Conner got her to the end of the hall.

"Loomis, you're telling off a homicidal maniac. I think you're wasting your time. And I highly doubt it will have any therapeutic value anyway." Conner frowned at her.

"I'm going to give him a therapeutic kick in the…"

"Alright then!" Conner took her face in his hands trying to get her to alter her person of focus. "Take a breath...I'm sorry. Sorry he let you down."

Blinking, annoyed at the angry tears that sprung, Sammy ran her fingers through her hair in frustration.

"I'm sorry you had to find her. Are you ok?" She forced herself to move on from her own issues.

His face smooth, Conner shrugged, "I don't know, I think I'm still trying to accept it. She was just...dead….lying there. And she wasn't ever going to get up again."

The detachment Sammy saw in him gave her new purpose and she hugged him.

"What can I do for you?" she asked, he hugged her back.

"Uh, can I stay at your place?" his hands ran along the line of her back.

Looking up at him Sammy hesitated only a moment then nodded. He grinned. Why did that throw her off? Taking her chin in his hand he started to kiss her but she pulled away.

"Conner, the cameras…"

"Naw, those pieces of crap aren't hardly working at all tonight." He turned her face back to his.

Still resisting, Sammy frowned, "Well, I don't think this is the time or place."

His laxed attitude clouded a little but he let go of her.

"Ok."

Reaching out for his hand Sammy squeezed it and then went to find him a replacement.

He followed her over to her apartment and they went inside. He had brought in some vodka he had in his car and convinced her to take a couple of shots. Sammy had no head for drinking and refused any more, she was already feeling flushed.

They put on a movie but Conner was not interested at all. He was holding her on his lap and nuzzling into her, kissing and nipping at her neck. It could be his way of responding to what happened and so, despite her own disinterest because of what happened she let him continue.

But soon she had to stop him. She wasn't ready nor thought it was the time for anything more.

"Conner…" she took hold of his wandering hands, "Hey, not tonight ok? I'm still...messed up about this whole thing."

Bringing his head back to look at her he was thinking and he looked insulted, "Can't forget Myers for a minute huh?"

That totally caught her off guard and Sammy scrunched her face, "No. I was thinking about Amanda."

It was mostly true.

"Well there's nothing we can do about it Sammy…" he leaned in to kiss her, licking at her lips.

She felt him sliding his hands up her sides and she shook her head.

"Really, I don't want to." She insisted firmly.

But he didn't heed her and continued anyway.

"Stop Conner. Come on!" She wiggled to get away but he held her firmly.

He was so much bigger and stronger than she was and Sammy suddenly felt very powerless, even a little panicked. He was forcing her down on the couch and laying on her.

Pushing back at him she turned her head away, "Stop! Conner! You need to stop or leave!"

She could feel his body tense and she was scared.

With a growl he rolled off and stood up, glaring down at her. For a moment she thought he'd drop on her again but he spun around and grabbed his wallet, keys and phone from a nearby table where hers were. Picking up her phone he flung it across the room and it clattered against the wall.

Murmuring something she missed he went to the door and ripped it open and left.

Sammy was stunned and she sat there unable to get up...the door wide open. She had never seen him like that and it frightened her. It was obviously an unhealthy response to all the stress he was under. It was ridiculous that she felt guilty about her unwillingness to appease him. Still she held some relief at his leaving and she got up and shut the door, then locked it.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. All original characters and plot are the property of the author. No copyright infringement is intended.

Deputy Rathmore pulled her cruiser into the station at the end of her shift. Only the one ticket and it had been a quiet night. Quiet nights always made her nervous.

In the break room, Sheriff Lee Brackett was pouring coffee into a pre-used styrofoam cup.

"Save some of that for me." Rathmore said as she pulled her hat off, she was almost as tall as Brackett, "I need to grease up my wheel bearings."

Brackett chuckled, his horseshoe mustache widening with the pull of his cheeks, "Funny Judith. Everything alright out there?"

"Just a lead foot bimbo out by Pine Ridge…" sighed Judith as she took out the paperwork to file.

"Did you hear about the death at Smith's Grove out there?" asked Lee as he sat back down at a worn table.

This brought Judith's head around, "Death? Who? A patient?"

Not seeming to notice her flared interest, Brackett took a sip from his cup. His face soured, "Oh that is...really bad. What? Oh no...a staff member I thought. It's being handled by Kane county."

Judith rolled her shoulders, trying to ease the sudden snaggs in them.

"Do we know what happened?" She tried to make her voice casual.

"What brand of joe is this?" obsessed Lee as he sat the cup down sulkily.

"Lee…" Judith's patience was tightening but she knew the sheriff could be somewhat absent minded this time of night,

"I don't know Judith. The dispatch just said a homicide but that the situation was contained. It's not in our jurisdiction and Kane didn't ask for any help so I didn't get into it."

Carefully, Judith sat down at the table the paperwork in her hand forgotten.

Smith's Grove.  _He_  was there. Just the thought of him weighed her with nausea and oily hate. And if she was honest, it wasn't the first time she'd hoped an incident report from the sanitarium was about his death. She had had 15 long years to remember him since that Halloween night.

Putting her hand to her side where the scar was still rigid her skin in knotted purple and white, Judith could remember him only as that 10 year old boy. Bow-legged and fat, stringy, pale hair, those droopy eyes and fish lips.

Still in her mind she could see him in that stupid clown mask he always wore. Constantly vying for her mother's attention and getting it. She hated him, she always had. He was slow, a whiner, a squealer and completely embarrassing. Their mother had always said the two of them didn't get along because of the difference in age and it was probably part of it. But Michael, he had turned her stomach to even look at him. There was more to it of course. Her own father was nonexistent in her life so she had hoped when her mother married Michael Myers Sr. he would provide the love she had been deprived of. And he did for a while until 'The Curse' was born. They even gave him the same name! Judith had taken Myers as her last name and now she had had to share it with the new baby. To even call him her brother, then it was sickening, now she never would. And nobody knew she was his sister.

After Halloween, they had sent her to the hospital, barely saving her life. She hadn't expected to wake up but she did. She refused to testify in person, she was terrified of what might happen. They sent her to a youth facility in Chicago until she got into the foster system and suffered through the abuse and mistreatment there. At 18 she finally was out on her own and worked like her mother had. It was a weary life, she only worked to fund her addictions and it seemed no amount of chemical could satisfy her or fill the emptiness she felt. One night a man tried to overpower her and she sent him to the hospital with a broken bottle in his leg. It was in self defence of course, but just the feeling of control it had given her for the first time in years, she decided to apply to become a law enforcement officer.

When she graduated, certain, unforeseen circumstances had her look for a job back home, in Haddonfield. It was where she belonged. A place to fix all that had happened to her. And she found she was comfortable here and knew every street and their workings.

She knew Michael was nearby but he might as well be dead for what kind of life he had. And he deserved it for the misery he'd caused her her whole life.

Her's was a consuming hate and resentment she had for him. Never would she forgive him and even as poisonous as that was to her, she wallowed in it.

Angel? The ridiculous name was even worse than Michael's. Most the time she had completely forgotten her existence. Another person trying to replace her in their family. As a teenager her strategy was to just ignore the baby. She had her friends after all and the drinking and partying pushed her cares far from both her younger, unwanted siblings.

Once, on a whim, Judith had tried to see what had become of the toddler but the information was sealed and she would have had to get a court order per the insistence of the adoptive parents. Judith felt no connection or desire to reunite with Angel. Not right now anyway.

Life had moved on and Judith married a lawyer who died unexpectedly only two years after their wedding day. Judith wished she had cried more, felt more. But she hadn't. Any sort of tenderness she had ever had had long since hardened and slept, never to awake again.

"Well, I'll see you tomorrow then Lee." Judith kept her voice casual as she headed home.

* * *

Sammy sat in Klein's office, her hands in her lap as she waited to hear how he would respond.

She had told him she was finished there. That she felt like she wasn't contributing and that she needed some space to deal with Amanda's murder that was affecting her more than she had expected. The youth center was more than willing to take her on for the rest of the summer and the next year if she decided. Perhaps her ambitions to be a forensic psychiatrist were changing.

Klein just sat there. His analytical eyes diagnosed her and she tried not to let it irritate her.

"Loomis. In all my years as a therapist, I have tried to understand the labyrinth of the mind. We are creatures of control. As a species we have always put ourselves to the edge of the unknown. Exploration of our world and all that happens on it. Our very existence we demand to know how it has come about. Perhaps one of our final explorations will be our own minds. That we cannot always control it like a computer. Turning emotions on or off, selecting only the thoughts we want to think, frightens us. That we cannot always control our own selves, it makes us feel powerless."

Listening, Sammy was confused at the man's rhetoric. What was it for?

He turned to look at his painting of the ship. "Sometimes I feel that in that state, feeling powerless and fearful, we do things that perhaps aggravate the situation. Then we pay the consequences. But, should we survive, we learn. If we do not, others learn from our mistakes and carry on. Someday I do believe we will conquer our own psychotic features. Maybe even some of our patients here will. Most of it is biology isn't it? And it could have been us on the other side of the door? Maybe it should be. We may not be able to fix Michael Myers, but I hope that you can prevent the next one."

To work here in this place, it made a person think. Think about how fragile sanity and balance were. Sammy had had her own rants like Klein's and so could relate to it. She only nodded, taking it as his blessing for her resignation.

She had tried to talk to Conner before she left. With everything that had happened, she felt it wasn't the time for them and to have to work together, maybe it would be easier if they weren't together. He seemed changed. Distant and stony. He only shrugged, "K."

Sammy knew there was no point, but she still felt as though she had to say goodbye to Michael and, with an orderly looking on, she went to his door.

An extra sliding screen had been put onto the access.

"Michael I'm leaving and probably won't be back. I only have one more year of clinical residency and then I'll go on to do my psychiatric studies. I just...wanted to wish you the best. I kind of feel like I failed you in a way. But you failed yourself too. But there's time, you're still breathing."

And that was it. After another week, Sammy went back to New York.

* * *

Jackknifing up in her bed, Laurie gasped as she searched the shadowed room for what had been chasing her. A ghostly face, smiling and freakish. Red lined it's lips and blotted its nose. A sharp knife it gripped in its hand as she had tried to escape it through a dark street layered in leaves. Not just escape it, but run to someone. She knew who it was and it made no sense. ' _Michael!_ ' she called to him, ' _Help me!_ '

Whatever was behind her was almost upon her. Just before her was the Shape of her brother, she knew it was him. Putting out her hand to grab him she woke up now, pulse rushing and her t shirt damp with sweat.

She had read about the murders. What they say had happened 15 years ago and the nightmares had started shortly after.

The little letter she had tucked away after her mom had begged her to trash it and move on. To forget all of this. And so Laurie hadn't mentioned it since that day. But she had taken a picture of the note with her phone and tucked it away. She read the words every day. It just didn't match up. The monster that everyone said he was against how humble and beseeching the words were in the letter struck her as contradictory. But everyone in that house he had gone after mercilessly but her.

' _You should have died too but I got you_.' He had spared her and she wondered why.

It would be awhile before she could close her eyes again, if sleep came at all, so she grabbed her laptop and closed her eyes against the bright glare of the startup screen.

First she put 'Deborah Myers Haddonfield' in the search bar. Most of the retrieved hits she had already read and she scrolled down a little until she came to her obituary. A typical, generic tribute someone who didn't know her might have copied and pasted it. Her birthday and her parents who had passed on already. She had taken a little girl into her first marriage then had two more children and was a dedicated mother after her husband died in an accident. She was a wonderful person, lively, had many who were fond of her but there were no names, only the number of the funeral home.

The next day she called them and a girl answered. She must not have known the stigma of the 'Myers' name for she said nothing when Laurie asked if they had a contact number from that funeral 15 years ago. Surprisingly the girl found one and Laurie called it, thinking no one would have the same number after this long.

"Hello?" A woman answered.

"Oh uh, hi! Lillian Farmer?" Laurie pushed her voice pleasantly, "My name is Laurie Strode. I...I don't know if I have the right number and I'm sorry to bother you but I'm looking for information about Deborah Myers…"

She barely got the name out before the woman cut her off, "Now look here, I'm not looking to get back into this after you people finally are leaving me alone. You want a story you can read the news accounts like everyone else. I don't have nothin' to say."

It was prelude to hanging up and Laurie hurriedly begged her not to.

"No Ms. Farmer! I'm not... looking for a story. I think...I'm Angel." Laurie hadn't planned on saying that but if felt liberating. There was no reply and Laurie thought for a moment that the woman had hung up or she'd been cut off.

"Ms. Farmer?"

But there was the static of a long breath in the phone and so Laurie quickly spoke again.

"I just, wanted to know something about her. What she was like…"

"You're Angel huh? That's a new one." The lady scoffed into her ear, but there was a hitch to her skepticism.

"I'm pretty sure. I have a birth certificate, 'Angel Deborah Myers' and my parents are having an out of body experience about everything." Laurie decided not to mention Michael's letter.

After another short pause, Lillian said, "Text me a picture of you."

Frowning, Laurie was hesitant, "A picture?"

"Yeah. You expect me to trust you on this? Send me a picture of you, I'll know if you're her little girl."

Sending pictures of herself to strangers was obviously something she didn't feel comfortable doing but it made sense to some degree. After all, what could it hurt?

"Ok, hold on." Laurie looked through her gallery.

So she did, it took a couple minutes before the woman finally said, "Baby, you look just like your Mama."

What was probably a common complement Laurie felt disconnected from. To be told she looked like a woman she couldn't remember, that had died in such a terrible way. Even more strange was her calling  _her_  her 'mama'. It brought a repulsion and a protest from inside and Laurie kept herself from correcting the woman sharply. It made Laurie feel lost and alienated to everything she thought was knew in her life.

But the way Lillian said it was thick with a sad reminiscence and Laurie could tell she must have been somewhat close to Deborah.

"Thank you. I was hoping to hear a little about her...in the news reports there's not a lot of information…" Laurie said.

"No of course not. They just said she had birthed a demon. That she must have been a bad mother, it must have been partly her fault. Don't listen to them. She loved you. All of you!" Declared Lillian vehemently.

Lillian told her that she used to work with Deborah after the death of Laurie's father and sometimes she would babysit them. The fact that the woman had given her a bath was somewhat awkward but she spoke of how hard her mother worked to keep food in their stomachs. That she would do anything for them and gave up so much for them.

It wouldn't be the last conversation she had with Lillian. Over the summer they spoke many more times. Laurie asked about Judith whom the woman said was neck deep in adolescent angst and rebellion, running her mother ragged.

She told her how she had advised Deborah many times to leave Ronnie. He was a truck driver who frequented the bar. Deborah was a person who needed companionship and love and would settle for even the worst of both.

But Angel was her little breath of fresh air. Even with her troubles with Judith and Michael. She said that Deborah had told her that when she was with Angel, there was nothing else in the world.

There was a reluctance, even a dread in Lillian when she talked about Michael. She would skip over him or keep her details vague, like someone who had to cross an asphalt road in bare feet in 110 degree weather. At the end of the summer and quite a few phone calls. Laurie finally begged her to tell her about Michael. Was he really such a disturbed child? Was there any warning of what would happen? It took some coaxing but the woman finally talked about him.

To be around him, he was very quiet. Deborah said before his father died he had been a happy boy, obedient and sweet. He did well in school and was always outside playing. He loved playing with Angel.

After the accident, it was like someone had turned off a light in him. There were fights at school and his grades diminished. It moved on to more troubling things. Regularly he and Judith were at odds and he wore a mask constantly. Then his mother found mutilated and dead animals about the yard, then his behavior involved such things as putting Angel in danger. It broke Deborah heart but she still loved him very much.

The night of that Halloween, Deborah left work, telling Lillian she was excited to watch a scary movie with her kids and sleep in the next day. Angel and Michael always crawled into bed with her and it was one of the things she looked forward to most in the world. She knew that she'd have to kick Judith's boyfriend out and the girl most likely wouldn't want to spend family time with them but Deborah would always try.

When Lillian heard of the massacre, and that Michael had been apprehended for it but that Angel was still alive, Lillian couldn't believe it. Michael, although disquieting, loved his mother, held her to be the most wonderful thing in the world. But Angel was alive, that she could believe.

What was left of the semester, Laurie barely earned a B. The uncovering of her past, with all it's bloody skeletons, had her brain shooting in dozens of different directions. The first time she thought of going to see Michael, she had only just found out he was being held at the creepy mental hospital just 45 miles away. Of course she dismissed it immediately. Like Cynthia had said. Leave him locked away. Leave him buried.

* * *

Time meant nothing to him. Day and night had long since melded into the same dark room with one lightbulb radiating a synthetic, dead glow. The desk was clear in front of him. The paints lined up and capped. The two usable brushes lay dry and clean. A stack of newspaper and magazines stacked at the edge of the desk, unshredded.

Nothing had bothered him before. Things happened or didn't happen, it was all the same to him. All that mattered was his routine, and knowing they were out there. Judith and Angel. Maybe someday he'd see them again. Sometimes he wondered why his mother wanted them to die.

Loomis.

Like an interrupting, annoying tear in a mask he would fabricate, Loomis had disrupted his routine. Before, he knew what he would think and what the day would not bring. But somehow he couldn't ignore her. When she had not come to the door for ages, he made the mask almost without thinking. He'd remembered the picture she left at the window, studying it as he could hear her yelling down the hallway about Conner's favorite, Lacey. Sometimes Conner gave Lacey extra pills, sometimes Conner gave Michael some. It made sleep come, if only for a little while. So he told her with paint on the window what happened to Lacey: Conner.

Loomis.

At first the visits were uncomfortable and he was anxious being out of his cell. Then he realized he might be able to leave. Loomis had keys to open doors. He could hear them in her pocket when she moved. But he never went through with the impulse. He fought it for an hour each time. To break the chain. After that the thought stopped. What would he do after? She would scream and try to run. Others would be watching and come. No, it was not the time.

So he would sit and listen to her talk. Not hearing her at first. It was all he could do to deal with the overwhelming stimulation of light and sound of her voice for he was used to none.

She talked about things that reminded him of before. Normal life. Books, camping, cereal, rivers, freeways, gas stations, cheese in a can, movies, dentists, pianos, stars and the moon, snow, mosquito bites, lightning and thunder, running, dancing, sports, jeans, babies crying…

Angel.

The  _other_  woman talked about her: Angel. And about his mother. She sat there, telling him about what he knew. It was wrong. She was wrong. Then she was against the wall. It's what she wanted. It's what she told him he was. Like Loomis said, a 'monster'. Holding her there, it wouldn't take much to finish her. Two, three more inches.

Loomis.

She came at him. Trying to stop him. She couldn't stop him. She fell and he thought of her keys. The chain, it kept him from getting to her so he broke it. Loomis had moved quickly but he didn't have to move so fast. He would take his time. Because time meant nothing.

But as he had thought, they came. There would be another time.

The other woman died and Loomis was mad. It was his fault? He could barely remember. ' _I failed you, but you failed yourself too_.' Michael stood to see her. She was leaving. Everything would be normal again. Why did it sicken him?

It had been weeks now and he sat, straight backed in his chair. Staring out beyond the desk in front of him through the wider than usual eye holes of his mask.

Loomis.

The sound of the key burrowing into the slot and retracting the bolt registered in his ears. Conner. No. Conner had a specific sound, more forceful and rushed. This was slow and luring. Michael didn't look as he listened to the door swing open a couple of feet, soft footsteps, then it closed.

Loomis.

The scent reached his nostrils almost as soon as the door had opened. Redolent and fresh like how he would remember rain in the woods. It was Loomis' smell. It made his muscles warm and ache.

Even if her footsteps were not as careful, he could still feel their reverberation of the floor. Standing next to him, he could feel warmth from the blood circulating in her body. He could find her in the dark if she was hiding.

Thoughts of reason did not always pester him but he thought of many things right now. She said she wasn't coming back but she was here, alone. Why had she come? To talk at him again? To tell him how he should think or act or what to remember and how to feel about it?

And so they were still for a moment, only the air stirred from their trading breaths.

She was moving and he felt her hand at the edge of his mask to take hold of it. His own hand shot up to prevent the violation, clamping around her wrist angrily. She of all people should know not to do it. But she didn't cry out or even whimper as he jerked her for emphasis. Whether or not it was intentional or because she lost her balance she dropped onto him and he had to reassess what was happening all over again. His first reaction was to throw her. She might hit the wall or roll to the floor. An impulse he forwent, almost curious at what was happening.

Mostly it was her eyes, even shadowed he could see them, rusty gold searchlights shining into the black limbo of his. Her mouth was prone to a resident, hushed smile even if she wasn't inclined.

Holding her wrist still, their arms crossed between them, Loomis still wore her blue uniform. The halo from the lamp highlighted the hair strands glowing pink-white in coronal loops. Michael tried to remember if he had ever noticed his mother's hair do that and his lungs seized. For a moment he couldn't remember what his own mother looked like and he couldn't break off Loomis to search his memory for her.

Again he was suddenly angry. Angry that Loomis could affect him like that. His free hand reached for the foot bed that was just next to him, fingers working under the mattress.

With a slight tilt of her head, Loomis leaned towards him, her eyes falling from his to the opening about his mouth. Strangely he wondered why he left such a gap there. There was no reason for it, no one would ever need to hear him. The mask blocked her gentle breath on his cheeks but it wavered his stringy hair that draped over it and brushed like an invisible feather across his lips. And she was very close. Without intense thought, Michael brought out the sharpened piece of metal he had torn from the underside of his bunk a long time ago. It crossed her throat, just grazing the smooth skin there. She had nearly reached his mouth, the wiry whiskers above his lip touching her lips when she had to stop or press into the blade.

His heart wasn't rushing. It was pounding; but slow powerful contractions that infused fresh, hot blood all through him. She could die, right here, it would be so easy. To move his hand the shortest of inches. Instead he eased the press of the knife slightly and she met his face with hers.

Neither moved for a moment. Loomis seemed to wait. Michael had no instinctual hint as to what he was supposed to do. It was a paralyzing experience for him, stunning and binding him more securely than the chains or a tranquilizer injection. Then she started to move her lips softly, stroking slowly at his stationary ones through the opening of his mask. Intermittently lowering the knife, his other hand released the wrist he had grasped the whole time. Her hand moved over to rest on his shoulder.

Michael was torn between two instincts. The familiar, savage desire that he felt he had a duty to or a new, foreign push that was just as persuasive. To pull her closer without causing fear. He wasn't sure he was capable of it. His free hand finally took her, probably more roughly than he intended, and lifted her up off of him as he rose as well. She was so much smaller than him he had to arch his shoulders and neck to keep a close approximation to her, he  _had_  to. She didn't fight, she didn't talk but she wrapped her arms around his neck, her face still close to his.

Hunching over he put both hands on the desk on either side of her and moved his mouth to hers. He wanted her to do it again, perhaps willing this time to participate. His one hand still clutched the makeshift handle of the knife, the metal scraping into the desktop. Little by little he tried to respond awkwardly which seemed to intensify her hold to him. His mask, it had always been a part of him, he was uncomfortable even by himself without it. Now it felt a hindrance, scratching and pressing at his face, distracting him from...enjoying...this. He pulled back and grabbed the chin of the dried paper mache. Sliding it upward he looked down on her as she patiently waited with beckoning eyes that now could scour his uncovered face. The demon in his head roared in rage and Michael suddenly raised his 'knife' and brought it down with all the force in his body.

He hit the dusty, cold concrete. Blankets wrapped around his leg and neck, weakly strangling him.

Loomis.

Where was she? No. He had not been awake. It had been a-

"Mikey!" A sharp knock came at the door and he could see Conner's face peering in the elongated window at him. With an amused grin, the orderly studied him.

"You have a bad dream and fall out of bed buddy?"

There was a muffled laugh and Conner moved away from the window.

Michael freed himself and went to the desk taking the blue paint and a brush. At the window he began to write. SimooL, simooL, simooL, simooL, simooL...


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. All original characters and plot are the property of the author. No copyright infringement is intended.

Sammy had settled in quite quickly at the residential home for youth and now knew most of them by sight when they would come in for their treatments. Some of them had mental issues ranging from mild to acute, but most had just suffered from some family dysfunction in their young childhood and emotional injury.

The center allowed her to sit in on counseling sessions and group therapies by consent of the patients and doctors. Sammy could see the germs of trouble later on, where some of these kids might end up in a place like Smith's Grove someday. But she also saw hope. There was still time to help them to learn to respect themselves and others and to find healthy ways of coping with tribulations.

The summer slipped away into a cooling fall. Sometimes Sammy still thought of Smith's Grove. Kayla, Cherry and some of the other staff would text her, asking how she was. Easily she admitted she missed them but told them of how fulfilling it was to work with the kids here. No one ever spoke of Michael. One night, late, she received a picture message from Conner, it looked like a typical maximum security door of one of the patients but she immediately knew the scratches and the wearing of it's paint like a fingerprint.

It was Michael's door.

In the window there was clearly written in blue paint over and over: 'Loomis'.

Conner added nothing more and when she tried to text and call him back, there was no answer.

And so Sammy's carefully reasoned out 'things are better this way' self assurance was bombarded by doubts. Some embarrassingly selfish. But she was committed to these kids and was doing well here. Not that it was easier to work here, but to have the sense that it wasn't too late for these people buoyed up her efforts and energy.

One day a 16 year old boy, the coincidence that his name was Miguel surely played its part in her future, came to the medical department and Sammy smiled when she saw him.

"Miguel! How are you today? Did you hurt yourself playing basketball again?" She teased him as that was usually his excuse to come see her.

It was then she saw his coat on and zipped to his chin, a backpack looped on his shoulders and his duffle bag bulging at his feet.

"No Miss Sammy." he muttered, weight in his voice, "The director is makin' me leave. Said I wasn't make'n any progress here and upsetting everyone else because of my 'disruptive behavior'. I'm here to get my Adderall prescription."

Sammy was truey shocked. She knew the boy was a handful. He tended to be outspoken and would challenge authority. He broke rules and solicited fights, but that was what this place was for. For children who struggled socially.

"But, where are you going?" she asked, concerned.

"They'll try me over at Flint Point, after that, if I can't get myself together, they said I had to go home. What's at home? My mom's an alcoholic and I haven't seen my dad in 10 years. I'd just be out on the streets again." the boy looked devastated.

Turning to get the prescription and to hide her deep frown of disagreement for the decision, Sammy had heard of Flint Point. They were a shoddily run place that had numerous allegations of mistreatment to kids and usually the next stop for their turn outs was jail or the streets.

When she returned, Sammy handed him a paper and pill bottle.

Sammy couldn't help herself, "Have you tried to appeal it? I know you've been really working on all this. You're a good kid Miguel, is it so hard to follow the rules?"

The boy shrugged solemnly, "I don't know. Sometimes I do it without thinking. But they're telling me that I can't change as fast as they want me to even though I want to. I'm tryin'. I gotta play by their timeline or they're going to give up on me. I kinda feel like they're abandoning me…"

The conversation carried on and Sammy tried to be encouraging, telling him he had control of his actions, if he could just believe that and think things through in the future, he'd be alright. But he did look betrayed and cast off.

September flew by and Sammy couldn't help but think of her patients at Smith's Grove. Niall and Lacey and everyone. Michael.

Had she abandoned them? She was only a medical student with no real counseling duties. No authority to fight for these people, teach them to fight for themselves. The people there at the sanitarium were chronically ill. Most never to leave.

Here she could make the most difference, save people.

So it was a choice, her choice. What were her expectations of the results. Did she need and demand timely happy endings to feel successful and fulfilled?

When the phone rang in Klein's office he was surprised to hear Sammy on the other end.

"Dr. Klein, I was wondering if...you still needed...wanted, a medical resident?" She asked.

Samantha Loomis was on a plane to Illinois the next week.

* * *

' _Boo, I don't know where you are. I think you are ok. I miss you. I don't think they'll ever let me out to see you. If they tell you about me it will make you scared of me, they are all scared of me because of what happened. But you and me, we know and that makes me not feel alone. As long as I'm not alone I can live through this. You saw it Angel. All the blood. You should have died too but I got you. She did it not me. The lady in white. If I get away from here, I will find you. Michael Myers.'_

Laurie didn't even have to read the words anymore. It rolled over in her head like a song overplayed on the radio. She dissected it, analyzed it and internalized it. It sounded to her like he denied committing the murders, but he was insane. Most 'sane' murderers said the same thing. So it wasn't that that hounded her. It was the memories that had started to come. Like a camera lense they were unfocused at first. But more and more she could almost see their faces. Maybe it was her own tired and stressed mind making up what she had obsessed over. Memories that didn't exist.

She remembered the blood, she remembered hiding under the bed and the hands that dragged her out roughly. Then night wrapped around her tightly and slick. She cried and screamed, the air getting wet and heavy. Was it...the lady in white who had trapped her? She couldn't get out. Deborah's face would come into her mind, dressed like a ghostly angel.

Then the coolness came with the hole. A boy's face appeared above her. He was so tall, he picked her up and she grabbed at his hair, using it to hide under. She was scared but he hushed her, whispering to calm her. The body of another was laying lifelessly just feet away. He had said something to her before she hid under the bed from the monster, something about a secret in the floor. Laurie couldn't remember, her bunny?

But the more and more she tried to ignore it all, she finally had come to the conviction that Michael Myers...her brother, didn't kill those people. His letter said it was the lady in white which she decided might be their mother. Judith didn't testify in person. Did she know it might have been Deborah? To let Michael take the blame, Laurie just couldn't let it rest. And unable to speak of it to her parents or friends, it built inside of her. She wished she could ask Judith.

Surprisingly the internet 'person tracking' services Laurie had always seen annoying ads on YouTube made it fairly easy to find a Judith Myers who had married some years ago, her new last name Rathmore. A police officer right in Haddonfield! Laurie now wondered if she they had crossed paths, not even knowing it. An older sister. As much as Laurie tried she remembered nothing about her. Would she want to know Laurie? Had she ever looked for her? The questions blistered and raised, making Laurie more and more determined to talk to her.

But first, for some reason, Laurie wanted to see Michael.

* * *

Returning to Smith's Grove, Sammy had no regrets. Instantly it felt like home. She had cared for the kids at the home but it was different here, they were her family.

Klein must have told Conner for they seemed to have opposing shifts most of the time and she would see him only in passing. He'd toss her a luke-warm greeting as he walked with some other employee as if Sammy were only an acquaintance he was happy not knowing well.

That, Sammy was solid on, was definitely for the best.

Klein gave her a long leash on being involved in prisoner's cases and therapies to the point policy would allow. He also offered her a place there to fulfill her residency in psychiatry and, if she wished, work there after she graduated. She was happy. It was not Belleveue, or Broadmore, but this was where she wanted to be.

She stayed clear of Myers as much as possible however. The implements of safety after Winters' death still were in place. His door was only to be opened with a dozen orderlies in assistance. His ties to the outside world had all but been cut.

When she came back to his door for the first time, just in passing for he required no medication from her, Sammy stood to watch for a minute. The orderly sat with a sports magazine and asked her if she needed anything. She told him no and immediately she saw Michael's head raise. Quickly she left.

The colors of fall took the trees. Jack-o-lanterns began appearing on porches and the supermarket displayed giant frankenstein face made up of soda pop boxes. Sammy convinced Klein to let her decorate the lobby with only a couple of weeks to go before halloween. Not many visitors came until the holidays and so who would see it anyway?

Taping a witch flying across the moon up on the wall, Sammy balanced on two arms of a chair. Laurel watched her from her permanent nest at reception, eating at the candy corns Sammy had put out.

The tape in her mouth, Sammy tried to ask her, "Ish id shtraid Rarel?!"

Not looking up at this point the woman just nodded, "Sure honey."

The door opened to the lobby and Sammy couldn't hardly see who had come in as she held the picture up with her forehead, trying to get a piece of tape dispensed. Most likely a new delivery person who didn't know where the back door was.

The voice sounded young and female and made Sammy feel like someone had doused her with a bucket of icewater.

"Hi, my name is Laurie Strode. I'd like to see Michael Myers."

The witch slipped from Sammy's fingers and fell down behind the chairs.

Laurel must have been caught off guard too.

"I'm sorry what?" Laurel asked.

"Um, Michael Myers? I would like to see him?" the girl repeated a little more awkwardly.

Laurel still didn't get it, "Myers?"

Coming down from the chair and twisting around discreetly, Sammy looked at the girl who was holding onto the counter, fidgeting. Dark blonde hair, light eyed and even a bit taller than Sammy.

"Yes I'm his sister…"

Sammy's eyes widened and she questioned her own ears now.

Laurel's face slowly changed to someone who had just gotten the punchline of a very poorly told joke.

"Oh I see." Laurel had heard it before. "Well Miss Strode, I'm sorry to tell you that visitors need to be scheduled and approved of ahead of time. It says that clearly on the website…"

The girl just stared at her blinking, her mouth cinched into a tense line.

"I tried to call twice and no one picked up the phone. Would it be that hard to check and see if I can see him now?" Laurie asked boldly.

Laurel had been known to let the phone ring as she read her supermarket smut books.

"No it's not possible. I'm sorry." Laurel shook her head.

"Can't you ask someone? I mean, isn't there someone else I can talk to?" Laurie we obviously anxious and impatient.

Clearing her throat, Sammy walked up to them, "Thank you Laurel I'll help her."

Both the receptionist and the visitor turned to Sammy as if she had suddenly just appeared in a puff of smoke.

"Miss Strode, per state regulations we really can't authorize a visit without prior consideration with the inmates here. Let me just give you some information on how to go about doing that…" Sammy smiled at her and motioned for her to come over to the doors.

"No." Laurie glared at her. "I want to see my brother."

Raising an eyebrow Sammy glanced back at Laurel who was watching them intently.

When Michael had first been placed here, there had been quite a few people who had come to see him. Fans, angry mobs, preachers who wanted to exorcise him, people who wanted to adopt him, and people claiming to be his relatives. None were permitted, the judge ordered that only immediate family would be approved. This left few allowances.

The stream of wishful visitors slowly tapered off and every now and again some person with a fixation for him would show up and try to get a look; like he were an artifact in a museum. It had been over 3 years since the last one.

Sammy nodded at her with concern, "Yes I understand that. Look we are subject to the court and...your brother, he needs to be given time to...get ready and taken to a place where you can see him."

What she didn't tell Laurie was that after Winters' death, Myers had been put on the no visits list by Dr. Klein.

"I can wait. I don't need to go anywhere today." Laurie told her, crossing her arms defensively.

Laurel just sat there looking amused, "Would you like for me to call security Miss Loomis?"

"What?!" Laurie bristled, "What do you guys do here? Just throw away the key? Not let anyone see their family!?"

Trying to calm her Sammy shot Laurel a curdled glare, "No that won't be necessary Laurel…" and beckoned for Laurie to follow her through the front door.

Ruffled Laurie did so, also scowling at Laurel.

Out in the cooled breeze, Sammy shut the door soundly behind them.

"I'm sorry about that." She said, "Can I call you Laurie?"

Shifting angrily from one foot to the other Laurie hesitantly nodded.

"Ok Laurie, I'm Samantha Loomis, I'm one of the medical staff here. I understand you're upset and that this is frustrating but let me help you. First of all they're going to want to make sure you are who you say you are. They won't just let anyone see...Michael. Then it's got to be arranged. It takes a while to take a maximum security patient someplace where you can visit with them comfortably." Sammy explained to her, shivering slightly at a rush of air that carried with it dancing leaves around their feet.

Laurie studied her skeptically.

"That receptionist is a real hag." she said to Sammy.

Shrugging, Sammy couldn't argue, "Receptionists' union, what are you gonna do?"

The girl grudgingly smiled. Sammy decided she could very well be who she said she was. She bore a resemblance to what Sammy remembered Michael to look like but she looked more like Deborah. Still there were channels that had to be gone through and so Sammy informed her of the documents she needed to bring and Sammy would take care of the restrictive order that Myers was currently on.

Sammy couldn't help but think perhaps this could be a fulcrum for Michael.

So with some reasoning, Sammy convinced Laurie to exchange numbers and she promised to tell her the soonest date everything could be set up.

Angel Myers. It might be true. She claimed she had the self identifying paperwork and would bring it back when Sammy told her to.

After watching Laurie's car go, Sammy went straight to Klein.

As soon as he had shuttled her into his office, obviously not wanting others to casually hear the conversation Klein sighed in exasperation.

"After everything that's happened, you want to risk another atrocity?!"

"I'm fairly sure this  _is_  his baby sister! From what his files have said and the fact that she was completely unharmed by him, I just think that this could be what he needs…"

"You saw what happened to Winters when she simply showed him pictures! What do you think will happen when he sees his flesh and blood sister,  _if_  it is her?" the man resisted.

Sammy rolled her lips for the tension, "We can take extra measures. She can come talk to him through the door?"

"No. Regulations are that no visitors go to the residential floors, you know that." Said Klein.

"Dr. Klein," Sammy tried to slow the velocity of the argument to calm it, "No matter what our fears about this are, this girl is dead set on seeing her brother. What if she goes to the state or the media? They'll come in here and see how much we're struggling. That might be good if it gets us the funds we need to update this place, but if they're anything like Amanda was, they will most likely make big changes and I don't know if they'll ask for permission or not."

Klein couldn't retort. He knew she was right.

She continued, "If we can maybe get something out of this, something positive and show Smith's Grove in a good light, maybe they'll see us worth investing in, and letting you make the changes you think are best for our patients."

It was almost word for word what Amanda had said and it made Sammy sick to buy into the bureaucracy and politics of the matter but there seemed no escape from it.

Klein dropped into his chair in concession. "You'd better guarantee there will be no mishaps Miss Loomis. You keep that monster of yours under control...period."

"I will." Sammy promised.

Afterwards she called Laurie Strode and the made an appointment for her to return in two days. To keep the peace, it was suggested that Myers be heavily tranquilized and the bindings doubled. But Sammy didn't want him aggravated by a dart and instead insisted that she be present as he was transported to the visitation room. She had not spoken to him in the time she was back and hoped he wouldn't take in offence.

So the night before, Sammy came to the door, three orderlies with her. She wanted to give him warning which had been debated if it was a good idea to do so or not. A compromise was reached in that they would not tell him who it was but let him know someone was coming.

Not seeing him at his desk she searched until she saw a foot hanging off the edge of the bed and she called in, "Michael? Are you asleep?" There was a slight curling in the toes and Sammy continued, "I have something to tell you. Tomorrow we will have a visitor for you at 10am. I will be there. I think you'll really want to come."

There was no more movement and Sammy stood for a moment trying to think if she should say anything else but nothing came to mind.

"See you tomorrow." she added apprehensively.

Conner left early that day saying he was ill which Sammy felt would make things more difficult as he was Michael's caretaker most of the time. To have him there may have made Michael more comfortable, even if there was no guarantee of Michael being docile.

Twelve orderlies were rounded up and Klein stood by with the dart gun just in case.

"Now I'm going to go in and tell him." Sammy told them shortly, frowning at the brute force that already had her nervous. "Everyone please be respectful."

It had taken her all morning to convince Klein to let her enter first and now she felt that perhaps she was being a bit ambitious. At the same time it was as if she had been waiting to do this for a long time.

First she knocked, "Michael, it's me, Miss Loomis. Can I come in?"

At his desk of course he said nothing and putting in her key she unlocked the door fully.

It was only the second time she had ever been in the room and this time she was not alone there. Immediately she felt the eyeless sockets of dozens of masks peering down at her from the closely pressing walls. The room looked so much bigger from the outside.

"It's almost 10 o'clock. Are you ready?" Sammy forced her eyes to the back of his head, the bands of his mask bunching his tousled hair.

He was painting and continued to do so. So, swallowing at the feeling that something terrible was about to happen, Sammy walked up next to him, looking over his shoulder. The mask was not paper mache, it seemed to be made out of ripped cardboard and layered together choppily. He was spreading the thick, orange paint on it, giving a jack-o-lantern like look to it.

"This is different…" She observed, her eyes flickering over to his hair-curtained face. The mask he wore was white and plain with a wide mouth that showed the bushy beard and mustache underneath.

He gave no indication of her hearing her comment, or that he was willing to come, or that she was even there.

Behind her, Billy and the others grumbled and he stepped forward with the harness of chains meant for Michael. At the jingle of the linked metal Michael dropped his hands flat to the desk, tensing. The little paintbrush stub bounced and rolled off the desk's edge.

Sammy did not want this to end up like a year ago in the shower room and she brought her hand up for them to stop then motioned for the harness.

The men looked back at Klein who gave the slightest of nods.

Billy brought over the shackles and plopped the leather and chain onto her awaiting hand. The doubled weight she didn't count on and most of it fell to the floor as she grabbed for a hold on it. There were chuckles from the orderlies and Sammy could feel her face heating.

Groaning, Billy spoke up, "Let's go Myers. Make this easy on everyone."

"Could you guys wait out in the hall please?" she said dismissively.

Hesitantly they stepped out leaving her next to Myers.

"We've got to put them on Michael, if you want to go." So she stood there patiently.

Finally he rose and turned to her. Sammy tried to keep her face smooth despite the panic that gnawed at her repose as he loomed over her, inches away and unrestrained.

Straightening as much as she could, Sammy began to fiddle with the straps, then she stepped forward to put the belt around his waist. To do so she had to lean in very closely, her cheek brushing the fabric of his shirt, her arms around his surprisingly narrow body and she tried to move quickly.

She would only let herself concentrate on what she was doing and didn't let any thoughts of him strangling her or slamming her head against the wall make her hands shake any more than they already were.

Just the cumbersome weight of the harness would be draining to carry she thought as she fished up the thick bracelets and brought herself to look up into the eye openings of his mask. Those colorless eyes went from the bindings in her hands back up to hers blankly. Then Michael put out his hands to be cuffed. After, she bent down to attach his ankles. It took some time for just her to do it as she was obviously unused to performing the task and because of having to secure two sets of harnesses.

At last he was ready and she asked if anything was uncomfortable for which she expected to received no reply and was not disappointed.

The procession echoed of footsteps and clinking chains all the way to the elevator. Sammy insisted upon going with them and with four other men and Michael it was a tight squeeze. They were met by the rest of the escort when the door opened and proceeded to the visitation room.

Here the orderlies had to secure Michael. They anchored him to the ground but also threaded the chains through the chair so that he would be unable to stand.

Two guards stayed by the door and Sammy sat down and waited. It was five minutes after the hour and she had begun to think that maybe Laurie had changed her mind. Of course she had to get by Klein by showing him her proof of relation. So maybe the girl had been bluffing.

Then the door opened and the young, blonde girl with the stinging silver eyes stepped gingerly into the room.

In a zipped up hoodie and jeans, the girl adjusted her glasses with only a wiggle of her nose as she paused by the door. She stared at Michael who was sitting sideways from her, facing Sammy with no table in between them, just a span of six feet or so.

"Laurie." Sammy smiled at her with a confidence that looked good on the surface but had a shaky foundation, "I'm glad you're here. Come sit down."

Sammy pointed to a seat close to her own. If Michael went for them, she thought she could put herself between him and Laurie to give the other girl a chance to get away.

Laurie didn't move. She had folded her arms tightly against her chest and was still locked onto Michael who did not even look her way. He slumped in his chair, hands hanging limp between his parted legs and his head down. More hair fell over the mask, making it almost impossible to see him at all. Usually when someone came to visit an inmate, a special effort was made in their grooming. It was true, the environment was a relaxed one and Sammy had become desensitized to that. What she considered fine and normal presentation of the patients may look somewhat less preen to an outsider. She often thought of it as WalMart casual. But to tell Michael to put on a tuxedo and slick his hair back was probably not realistic. Although now that she was looking closely, his hair looked fairly clean even if it was still tangled.

"Laurie?" Sammy called to her again patiently.

The girl turned to her distractedly, "Hmm? Oh."

She came over carefully, her focus back on the large, bound man.

As she settled, Sammy kept her warm smile. She had briefed Laurie about Michael's general condition, that he hadn't spoken in years and about the masks. She also told Laurie that Michael didn't know who was coming, should Laurie decide to wait to tell him.

"This is Michael. I'll let you introduce yourself." Sammy suggested.

The girl finally turned her face to Sammy briefly and blinked nervously, "Yeah."

Then she coughed and looked back up to the unmoving man.

"Hi." Laurie left off, her hands knotting in her lap. "I'm...Laurie."

Not once did his eyes look up, they stared with hooded lids at the floor in front of him. The silence enfolded them and Sammy could only watch. It was nothing to do with her now. It was between these two.

"I think I remember you." Laurie's sentence was shaky and half whispered.

Quiet.

"Do you know me?" the girl asked intensely.

Quiet.

Laurie glanced over at Sammy who nodded encouragingly.

From her pocket, Laurie took something. An envelope and she opened it, retrieving folded tissue from inside. With a shaky hand, Laurie let it unravel and hang in the air.

"You...you sent this to me." She said.

Ever so slowly, Michael's head drew up. The generous eyeholes did not hide the lowering of his eyebrows and the tightening of the skin about his eyes even through the fringe of his hair.

Chains clattered against the metal chair and Michael straightened. He looked at the bath tissue scroll then he looked up at Laurie, his head tilting back a little and he stared.

Sammy felt like one of two rabbits in a cage with a wolf. She had not expected Michael to suddenly grin and speak, or cry and writhe. This is exactly what she would have expected of him. This or a hurricane of chains dismantling the room and she and Laurie screaming and scrambling for the door.

Bravely she sat though. ' _Not on my time_.'

This has to be on his time, and on Angel's. If he recognised and accepted her at all.

Sammy couldn't help but remember the photo on his desk. Michael had loved this person at one point. What did he feel now?

The two siblings sat and looked at each other. Both a far cry from the two happy children in the picture. Laurie reached up slowly and took her glasses off.

"I didn't know about all this." She went on. "They were trying to keep me safe. I didn't know I had a...a brother. And that you were here...all this time."

With an odd cock to his head, Michael brought his eyes to Sammy. He may have been questioning her if this was some sort of joke and if she really thought it was that funny. He may have been focusing blame upon her for his imprisonment or perhaps he was having a difficult time just looking at Laurie. He seemed to have recognised her, something familiar in her face. A trace of his mother or father? Just the fact that he was so animated with out being hostile had Sammy itching in her chair.

"...and a sister." the blurb of an after thought had Michael rotate his head mechanically back to Laurie. "Judith. Has she...has she come to see you?"

And Michael let out a puff of air from his nostrils that caught his hair and ruffled it.

Somehow, Laurie took this as a reason to go on, "I know where she is Michael. And I want to talk to her. You...you shouldn't be in here!"

The shy, reserved girl suddenly flared as if she was angry at him. Sammy put out a hand to her arm to keep her in check.

But Laurie ignored her, "They said I testified that you did it! That you killed them! I don't remember any of that! And you told me here in your letter, that you didn't do it. Why did you tell them you did?" she demanded.

"Laurie." Sammy broke in, "Slow down. Do we need a break?"

It was the same feeling or warning Sammy had gotten when Amanda persisted daringly. At the same time Sammy was fascinated by the one sided conversation. She had never seen the 'letter' that Laurie had and that it might have a denial that he had actually committed the crimes.

Swinging her head to face Sammy, Laurie was flushed and upset, "No…I'm sorry. It's been really hard these last few months. I'm ok."

Then she went back to Michael who sat stagnantly.

"Something's not right Michael. For some reason I feel very...connected to you. If you tell me that you really did it, you killed those two men and...our mother, I'll believe you. But you have to say it. I want to hear it from your mouth."

And for a moment Sammy held her breath thinking that maybe he would actually speak. His jaw shifted and top lip twitched just slightly but he remained in his chair, silent.

"Then I'll see if Judith can tell me." Laurie said half sulking, half in gentle scorn.

The visit did not endure much longer and for all of Michael's reaction he could have been one of the many empty, soulless chairs or tables in the room. There was no miraculous show of humanity nor rush of cold predator. He only saw his sister and sat still.

When Laurie finally had to leave, or had reached what she could stand of the meeting, she stood and said, "I...I'd like to come see you again, if you want."

At his lack of response, Sammy stood as well and escorted her out.

Out in the hall, Laurie leaned against the wall, the energy and rigor sapped from her.

"I don't know why I thought he would talk to me, or care. He hasn't seen me in 15 years." She said to the air.

Putting a warm hand to her shoulder, Sammy smiled, "In his time Laurie. He's been here quite a while. Let's be patient. But Laurie, you said he wrote that he didn't do it..."

With a longing glance back at the visitation room Laurie shook her head.

"Then he didn't say who did? That's why you'd go ask your...Judith Myers?" Sammy tried to be delicate.

"He said 'the lady in white'."

"Who's…"

Laurie's clutched the envelope that held the 'letter' in her hand, "I think...it was my mother."

After Laurie left Sammy went back to walk with Michael's escort and removed the manacles from him. She had just turned when the concussioning sound boomed in the confined space of the cell and she leaped towards the door. An orderly grabbed at her arm and dragged her out as she turned to see Michael's desk flipped and up against a wall as the door was slammed shut.

Thunder continued to rattle behind the door as what was inside let loose it's wrath.

Later, Sammy would go to the lightless room, scratched into the door's glass: 'Angel'.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. All original characters and plot are the property of the author. No copyright infringement is intended.

Drop-drop-drop.

The lullabye of tears from the cracked toilet toned flat in his ears as Michael sat against the wall of the dark coop that was his universe. The ruins and fragments of furniture and shattered fake faces littered the floor around him but it was all nothing. The room was suffocatingly full of nothing.

Drop-drop-drop.

That same procussion drummed 15 years ago, in dark red….

Dripping onto his ear and neck, waking him from where he lay on the floor. Even opening his eyes to the dim lights of the entryway of his house, Michael felt a wave of nausea and the pulse of pain sloshing in his head as he rolled onto his side.

He called for his mother who didn't answer. He was still wearing the clown mask from trick or treating and he tried to reach up and take it off but that was enough to bring up the copious amounts of hastily eaten candy from his stomach. All he could do was lay in it, coughing and drooling. Something echoed above him, scratchings and moaning, it frightened him.

This time he ignored the churning in his middle and got on his hands and knees, he looked up to the open hallway of the second floor and couldn't see anything. But something was dripping from the floor and he squinted at where it now began a tiny dark puddle of red.

What had happened?

An urgency pulled at him to look despite what he might see and he began to crawl the stairs.

He glanced out at the living room as he climbed. Through the spindles of the railing he saw Ronnie down in the living room, head back and his slashed neck a mess but Michael wanted his mother and kept on. At the top of the stairs he looked into Judith's room. Another...what was his name? He couldn't even remember it now. Something was wrong with him. He lay there eyes wide and mouth agape, screaming in a decibel range Michael couldn't hear. Spastically, Michael turned his head down the hall. His mother was propped up against the door frame to her room, Judith face down on her lap. There was...blood, everywhere, soaking through the beautiful, white satin nightgown, his mother always wore. Her face was grey like a gloomy moon. Fingers entangled in Judith's hair, Michael saw his mother's hand move, almost caressing her daughter's still head. That's when Michael saw the knife. Jutting from his mother's waist.

"Mom?" he asked. If her hand was moving, she wasn't dead.

He crawled over to her. Her eyelids cracked open and he felt a rush of relief.

"Are you...ok? Mom…" He knew she had hurt herself. After she had...done all of this, she had punished herself.

A trickle of deep red came from her mouth as she smiled at him, "Michael."

With shaky fingers he pulled the mask down to dangle from his neck and reached to wipe away the hurt that drizzled from her lips. A bandaid was all she needed, he'd go get a bandaid.

His mother's hand lifted just slightly, too drained of life to go higher, "I'm sorry...I'm so sorry. It was me. It was my fault, all of this. Find Angel. She needs to be with us, you and me Michael. Always with us. Never….never….never let her…" his mother rasped and coughed, spitting blood onto him. A puddle of it surrounded his hands as he went to be closer to her and he slipped on the slick floor, falling into it. The gravity in his head burned and he had to wait to let the floor stop spinning around him before he tried to get back up.

Angel. Where was she? He looked around and couldn't see her.

"I'll go get her mom. I'll call for help. Stay here ok?" He pushed himself to his knees, then to his feet. The world tipped and he tripped over Judith's sprawled legs, slamming his head against the floor again. When he got up he couldn't tell if he'd been out or not. But he looked into Judith's room again. He didn't see the little girl. Then he looked at the boyfriend...Steven again, it looked like he was pointing and Michael looked closer in the direction. A garbage bag was at the foot of the bed, half under it. There was something moving inside.

Angel.

Michael crawled his way towards it. The pulled up floorboards where Judith kept her secret stash of weed, white rocks and pills tripped him. But Michael caught himself and grabbed at the bag, it was tied shut tightly and he tore at it's plastic skin. Not fast enough, he felt for his pocket knife in the folds of his costume and with shaky fingers opened it and started to cut carefully. There was another layer underneath. Inside Angel looked tired, pale.

"Angel...hey. Wake up Boo." He voice broke.

He peeled the bag from around her like husk and pulled her out to him.

"You need to take a big breath Boo. A really big one. Like you're gonna sneeze." He patted her cheek and kissed the top of her head.

And she did. Her little soft lips parted and her chest expanded against his.

"That's it! Do it...do it again." he rubbed her arms. "You gotta be with mommy and me ok? So I can take care of you."

A soft 'um' from her made him almost cry but he knew he wouldn't. Boo couldn't see him cry because he was all she had left now.

"I love you Angel." he told her as her eyes brightened sterling like freshly minted dimes.

But she loved Mommy. He'd never let her know what Mommy had done. Mommy didn't know what she was doing. She missed Daddy. Judith made her mad, this was Judith's fault. But Judith was dead so Michael had to take care of Angel, just like Mommy said. Angel couldn't know because it would make her sad so Michael decided he'd say he did it. They practiced.

'Michael did it. Michael did it. Michael did it.'

Drop-drop-drop.

He called 911 and took the knife from his mother then waited until the lights danced on the walls through the windows. He clung to his sister until they were torn apart.

It was her today, sitting across from him. She still had the dimples, she still blinked one eye before the other. She looked like their mother but she had dad's eyes like him.

It might have been a dream and Michael didn't want to wake up so he sat and looked when she had come. She had found him suffocating in this place, almost gone, like when he had saved her in the bags.

But to hear that Judith was near, near Boo. It paralyzed him. Miserable memories of her hijacked his reunion with Boo. He should be glad his older sister was alive. He  _should_  be.

In the dark he reached up to his face, under the mask, feeling the wires that grew from his jaws. He wasn't a little scared boy anymore and now that he had seen Boo he had to be a man and take care of her like his mother would expect him to.

Loomis.

The restraints were an illusion, a game. But this time he didn't mind them as she had struggled to secure him. As she put her arms around his waist, Michael had reached forward with his hand that the orderlies couldn't see, she blocked their view. Just lightly enough feel the keys in her pocket below her hip then his fingers ran along the hem of her shirt. Michael held that thought right before he nodded his head forward on his chest for a few hours of rest.

* * *

Michael had almost crushed Sammy with his desk. Everyone saw it.

Conner swept out Michael's room as the inmate sat at the dented and sloping desk holding a torn picture of two kids.

"You made a huge mess bro." Conner grumbled.

The new bed was put in and the room looked odd with the missing masks that had been collateral damage during the rampage. Five other orderlies with tasers stood in the hallway as he cleaned.

It was almost a year since Conner had first gone to that party with Sammy, Pumpkin. Like Halloween, the pet name hadn't stuck around. Conner still thought of her too much and now that she had come back it was provoking and infuriating to see her almost every day. Lacey wasn't enough, no other girl was enough. They all tried to be Loomis but they couldn't be.

He wasn't a plumber but Conner managed to get the toilet working again and stopped the leak with some thread sealing tape.

Sammy was at the door looking in. Not at him, at Myers. Then she went on. She was scared of Myers. She should be. If she couldn't leave him alone, stop begging and tempting him, Michael was going to kill her one day.

* * *

It was Sunday, October 30. Sammy made sure she had tomorrow night off, wanting to be as far away from Smith's Grove as she could on Halloween.

Today Cherry left early, at 6pm because it was her birthday and she had brought in three large red velvet cakes for all the staff. She and Sammy had set out the treatments for the night staff and a rather bulky drug shipment came in late. Sammy reassured Cherry she could still leave and that she would put everything away and wait for the night nurse who would be on duty at 10pm.

The main nurse's station sat on a corner on the first floor down. Thick Plexiglas spanned the walls and two armored doors on either side had to be opened with a key. Inside the station there were small, shielded holes drilled in the glass to that patients or staff could talk to those in the medical station from the hall. To get to the medication and treatment prep and storage room, you had to go into the nurse's station and through another locked door. There was another nurse's station on the next level down and Sammy knew nurse Cleo had a double shift today. She would be the only other nurse until the Rita came in for the graveyard shift.

In the modest sized prep room, there was a large work surface in the middle of the room, cabinets on the front and side walls and counters running their length. In the back were shelves and shelves of medication stock bottles.

It took Sammy almost the whole time to check and put all of the new drugs away. After noting the quantities in their ledger, Sammy squatted down to put it in its place under a counter.

The cabinet was a mess with old boxes of folders that should have been cleaned out ages ago. Sammy decided to pull them out since she was finally finished to see where she could better store them. They were old medication schedules from years and years ago. The oldest was ten years. Opening it she flipped through the lists. Treatments had definitely come a long ways for hormonal and psychiatric therapy. Then she noticed Michael's name, he must have been 15 at the time and was taking quite a few combinations. Hopping up on the counter, Sammy looked down the list. A movement from the corner of her eye brought her head around, then she heard the door open.

"Who's there? Rita?" She called out, trying to see into the quiet station and the dim hall beyond.

"It's me Sammy." Rita popped her head in and smiled. "You here all night too?"

"No." Sammy slid off the counter, still holding the folder. "I'll get packed up to go now, everything's laid out for you. Do you need anything?"

"I don't think so honey…" The nurse said as she sat her purse and a 30 ounce fountain drink down just inside the prep room. "I sure wish they'd finish the cameras. They said we'd be able to pull up the screens in here and not just in in the surveillance room. I'm going to call down to Beta station and tell Cleo I'm here."

"Ok." Sammy said as she turned back to the folder and continued to read.

Some of the drugs they had him on weren't even in use anymore because of adverse side effects. There was one she completely didn't recognise besides it was a modified steroid. Curious, she noted down the name in her phone that needed to be charged badly. She was just about to google it when Rita came back in from the outer station.

"You didn't tell me they had cake! You ever have Cherry's red velvet?" the nurse put her hands to her hips.

Sammy scrunched her nose, "I hate red velvet! But yeah it's in the break room! You should go get a piece."

Laughing, Rita said, "You don't have to twist my arm! I'll be right back and I'll let you go."

Shaking her head, Sammy could hear the door close again and she went back to her phone but it powered down and she groaned. Her charger was in her car.

Rita took her time and it was almost 10:20 before she came back with a piece of half eaten cake on a paper plate.

"Sorry! All the orderlies are in there watching the game. I had to fight for a piece and shoo the ones out that were supposed to be patrolling!" Rita said, wiping a bit of white frosting from her lip.

"No problem. Hey Rita, have you ever seen this medication?" She pointed out the medication to the nurse.

"Hmmmm, it's steroidal."

"Yeah I thought as much. But I've never heard of this."

Rita shrugged, "Me neither. There were a lot of experimental drugs out at that time. I was still in school."

Sammy knew that when she got a real itch to know something it'd bother her until she had figured it out.

"I'm going to the restroom really quick and I'll be back to say goodnight." Sammy tossed over her shoulder as she left. Klein always left his computer on in his office and he had given her a key just in case.

Sammy went up the elevator and was waved through a checkpoint into the office areas, the energy saving lights illuminating the hall every ten feet or so. She let herself into the office and walked into the darkness over to the desk. Feeling for the mouse she gave it a shake and the computer screen awoke. Typing in the name of the mystery chemical, Sammy looked over the scant results. Google asked if she meant another spelling and different pieces of the drug came up separately.

So she clicked on some, finding them in different scandinavian languages. The translator made it little better. But references to hallucinogenic plants native to the baltic countries gave Sammy the idea that whatever was compounded into the base steroid was extracted from an wild herb such as a bog or anmirifta. The goal might have been to explore possible uses for psychoactive stimulants in relation to pain management and endurance. Tests were inconsistent with subjects suffering high toxicities and violent episodes.

The farther back she trailed the links, eventually references to vikings and their trance-like, uncontrollable ferocity. Was that what they were really trying to tap? An ancient bloodlust and try to harness or separate the numbness that allowed the berserkers to rage on despite injury?

Extraordinary writings claimed that berserkers had beyond human strength, fire and sword could not stop them.

So engrossed in the reading, Sammy thought she caught a shadow cast over the blinds of the office door out of the corner of her eye and when she looked up, the door creaked open slightly.

The hair on the back of her neck stood and she froze in her seat. Why hadn't she turned the light on? Nobody could have come into the office without her seeing it she was almost sure. But then her eye caught the picture on the wall of the boat, it was a viking ship.

Had Michael been one of the subjects in these tests? If any of this were true, it would make sense how he could withstand multiple orderlies, how he could snap chains and even his raging outbursts. Had they created a raging colossus from a lesser monster?

This time she thought she had caught the edge of a shadow at the door and Sammy turned off the screen and sat listening but nothing sounded besides the pulse of her suddenly rushed heart. No footsteps. Rising, she started to walk to the door and she poked her head out to look down the hallway. It was empty. The polished floors reflected the florescent lights that floated above them. Then she flicked on the light in the office and looked around finding no boogeyman hiding where shadows had once been.

She let out a shaky sigh, scolding herself for being so skittish. She worked at a mental hospital, she should be attuned to the it's ambiance and not so easily worked up.

A cartoonish pumpkin poster on the opposite hall smiled wide and strange, jaggedly sharp teeth instead of the level, squarish kind. Sammy frowned at it.

Sammy went to put the computer back in sleep mode and locked up the office then went back out and headed towards the elopement gate but she didn't see the guard to buzz her through. Walking up to the glass she knocked but saw no one in the little 'tank'. Maybe he had gone to get cake from the break room. The guards were sometimes relaxed going into the later night as most of the patients had been sedated and were quiet. Turning away she didn't notice the phone hanging from its cord off the ledge of the desk inside.

So she'd have to let herself through manually with a key and three button code. The gate unlocked and Sammy shut it securely and headed back to the elevator then the nursing station.

The corner station's lights also were dampened but it still glowed ahead of Sammy as she came closer to it. She didn't see Rita inside, she was probably in the prep room watching old episodes of Star Trek. She would always rave about how handsome William Shatner was when he was young.

Sammy still had her mind on the strange findings about what could possibly be amiss with Myers as she entered the nurses station.

"Rita?" She called, not seeing her through the prep door window. Her foot slid on the floor just as she was putting the key into the lock and she looked down. Some sort of brownish red fluid had spread over the floor from the prep room and looked like it had been tracked around the corner to the opposite door to the hall. Rita always drank a diet soda that may have spilled but this had a strange thick, crimson hue to it.

A young dread whispered sensible warnings to her but she hushed them knowing how jittery she had been.

"Rita where are you?" Sammy called again but couldn't see anyone in the prep room. Looking down again her eyes followed wet tracks towards the other door that was just out of sight with a large refrigerator blocking it. Having to fight her feet to move, Sammy left her keys dangling from the door knob and began to follow it, peering just around the corner of the refrigerator she saw a hand on the floor.

Fear and panic washed over Sammy like a strong, cold current and she had to take that last step. Most of Rita's body came into view. Her white smock and tennis shoes covered in oxygen bright blood.

Gasping Sammy choked a scream in her throat and she looked around, seeing no one. The halls were empty. Rushing forward the complete scene was revealed and Sammy put a hand to her mouth as she went on one knee. It was Rita and there was no reason to feel for a pulse. Someone had hit her, very hard and many times with something very heavy. A medcart was blocking the nearby door.

' _Run_.' her head screamed at her and Sammy got to her feet and turned for the only other exit.

Again she froze as she saw him standing in front of the door to the hall.

Michael Myers. The black mask he wore that day he pushed the table into Amanda's neck now donned like an outward banner of malevolence. His hands were covered in blood, a large pipe wrench hanging at his side.

Sammy was trapped, they both knew it. She should try to talk to him. But Sammy knew this time it would not work. He was a modern, crazed barbarian for all she knew and negotiation would be just as insane.

Before she had even thought of it her feet launched her forward. She had to get to the prep room. At her movement he started forward too. Letting out a high pitched shriek she desperately grabbed at the door knob and turned it with the key still inserted from before. Pushing the door open she shut it as soon as she was clear but she couldn't take the keys from the lock. A safety latch in case of this very situation had been installed on the door and she slid it closed just as the black face came to the window.

Light headed and her heart thundering in her ears, Sammy cried out and jumped back. Michael looked in, his eyes blacker and bigger than usual.

There was no hint of anything human as he stared at her, then he looked down to where the latch would be on the door.

Sammy spun around. She had to call the guards. How had Michael gotten out and past all of the floors and orderlies? They may be in the break room, the surveillance was not working as they were replacing the wiring and cameras on all of the bottom and top floors but they had to see him here! She pounced on the land line phone and picked up the receiver, tapping the security extension. There was no tone, nothing. Pulling the phone base forward she saw the cut cord. A burning despair had her turn to look at the door, Michael was still there, the door knob turning freely but the bolt holding fast. That's when she noticed the large footprints of blood that led to the spot where she was standing and fading away as it returned to the door. He knew what she would do, he had planned for it. He had waited for her.

On que, he raised the wrench and brought it into the glass with a powerful blow. Jumping at that, Sammy screamed. He did it again and again until the glass webbed and weakened. Sammy backed away. There was no other door out and she was going to die.

The window shattered and the wrench cleared the jagged edges until he could fit his arm through the opening. He reached for the latch, pulling it back easily and then the door was flung open.

Complete terror kept her moving even though there was no place to go. He was coming for her.

"Michael! Stop! Please!" she pleaded as she came to the shelves in the back. But he kept advancing, the wrench in his hand he held it to the side, herding her.

Looking around she grabbed some glass bottles and began to hurl them at him. They hit and bounced off him as he put his arm up to shield himself. The third hit his shoulder and broke, drenching his bathrobe sleeve and it seemed to enrage him. He growled. The first time she had heard anything from him and he sounded like a rabid animal ready to tear her apart.

She bolted to the other side of the table, putting the large 12 foot by 5 foot surface between them and that's when she saw the fire extinguisher hung on the wall and she grabbed for it. Myers moved fast and he skirted the table. There was no time to use the canister properly so she swung it as he came upon her. It tumbled low and although he tried to evade it, the heavy canister hit him in the shins and knee and he roared. It gave Sammy the chance she needed and she ran for the door and pulled it open then the next. He was right behind her, she could hear his labored breathing, it almost sounded like husky laughter. Like he was enjoying this.

All Sammy could do was scream as she rushed down the hall towards the next guard station that was just around the next corner.

"Help me!" She cried.

Then she felt it. The hand clamped onto her shoulder and jerked her backward. She came around and flung her fists at him. Her own state of hysteria taking over as she clawed at him. But he pulled her arm's length and threw her at the wall and she hit it hard. Dropping to the ground dazed, she felt the grip take her arm again and something hard impacted her cheek and nose. There was no strength in her arms or legs but she tried to kick at him, her free arm brought up to shield the next blow. She felt him grab at her leg and slide her forcefully into the opposite wall, her head and shoulder absorbing the collision with an explosion of pain and purple-white lights in her view. Still survival instinct persisted and she slowly flipped to her stomach and tried to get to her hands and knees. Then she started to crawl desperately, futilely for he was right there watching her. Little circlets of dark red began to appear on the floor between her shaking hands and she tasted the mineral tang of blood in her mouth.

"Help…" She whimpered to the long hall before her.

A hand grabbed at her head, entangling it's fingers into her unbound hair and jerked her backwards meeting little resistance. Again the wrench flew, into her leg and side. Collapsing in the searing agony she writhed and tears blurred her eyes. Her head was cranked back and she looked up into the mask that hovered over her. He would kill her now she decided.

"Mi...Michael…" was all she could manage, she felt sick and the exquisite pain overwhelmed the head-ringing horror that shook her vision. It made him look like he could stretch and bend, divide into two then three.

Michael snorted and started to walk, taking her with him by the hair. Weakly she reached up to grab at his hand to ease the hurtful pull. His large feet protruded from his sweat pants and he wore his dirty, bloody sandals. Towed so for what seemed like a very long time, They stopped. She barely knew where they were, but the stinging in her scalp suddenly softened and her head dropped as she was released. Keys chimed and a door lock shifted. Doggedly, she wheeled around, trying to get her feet under her, her left side still aching but all she could think of was to get away, no matter how impossible it was. She hadn't made six feet before her shirt was grabbed from behind and again she was pulled back and flung to the floor. A sandaled foot flew into her stomach and her air seized. All she could feel was the ripping, blooming pain that sounded from her injuries and she coughed and gasped for breath.

A pinpoint of pressure stung her neck and Sammy yelped, swatting at it with her hand. A syringe was knocked from the hand that hand administered it to her. What was he doing?

The pre-flush of warm, tingling haze crawled into her head, muzzling the hurt. Then she was floating.

Picked up and an arm looped her waist, lifting her from the floor, the toes of her shoes dragged the linoleum as Michael took her into the stairwell. Down they went. The grotesque pipe wrench swinging into her view as he held it in his other hand. She hadn't noticed that he held it with a sock at it's handle. Why that struck her as strange, amidst the anticipation of what surely would be the last minutes, maybe seconds of her life, she couldn't push away from her throbbing brain.

The turning decent added to the nausea, the railing passing by and unthinking, she reached out for it. Another growl from Michael and he yanked her hold from it easily. When they bottomed out, Michael let her collapse onto the ground. In her daze, Sammy felt him at her foot, prying one of her shoes off. Then they were moving again, pausing for him to wedge the shoe into the door to the stairwell before continuing into the hallway.

Sammy was on the cusp of consciousness. Fading in and out. One moment they were in the dim corridor. The next she was on the floor, a door opening. Michael was at his room. He picked her up again and brought her inside and dropping her again onto the bunk. The little light seemed to be losing the fight with the dark and Michael's mask melded into the shadows around as he stood, looking over her.

Numbly, Sammy tried to speak, "Why…"

He bent over for something on the ground then came back to her take her arm. The chill of a handcuff latched around her wrist and clanked as the other side locked around the metal bedframe.

"This is what you wanted." Came the unexpected reply. "What you've been waiting for isn't it Loomis?"

From her groggy state, the voice almost sobered her. Something wasn't right. Everything at this moment in time was a horrifying nightmare. But still, Sammy was jolted.  _He_  wasn't right.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. All original characters and plot are the property of the author. No copyright infringement is intended.

"Conner." the name slipped from her bleeding lips.

The pipe wrench was tossed to the floor by the door behind him and he chuckled.

"I gotta quit going for the smart ones. Amanda figured it out too right before she died...well with a couple of hints."

Sammy recalled it mentioned that the last person Amanda had called, dialed, as she was being strangled, was Conner. Everyone just thought she was calling for help. But Sammy now thought she was leaving a clue. Conner had killed her. Under the identity of a psychopathic killer, he had killed two people already. It shook her, as much time as she had spent with him, working with him and having feelings for him. How could he be capable of this?!

"They'll know who did this." Sammy tugged weakly at the handcuffs. She looked over where the wrench had landed and there was a set of leg shackles too. She didn't even want to know what he was planning.

Conner shrugged and shook his head.

"They might. But I'll have a good head start. When they find you, it's going to be bad pumpkin." he bent over, forking his arms on either side of her and he whispered, "This is going to be the worst thing Myers has ever done."

Greasy hair from what must be a wig fell over the mask and his stature was very convincing as Michael.

A sudden awareness dawned on her, "You were at my window that night…and Lacey...Michael wrote your name..."

She had put her only free hand to try to push him back but he grabbed it and pinned it down by her head.

"If you hadn't noticed, the real Myers isn't quite living up to his reputation. So I'm making a few public appearances for him, keep the fear alive." he admitted with disappointment. The black eyes, they must be contacts, fake just like the rest of him.

The thought of Michael had Sammy roll her head clumsily to the side. He was there, sitting in his chair, but he was curved over, head on his desk.

Had Conner killed him? Concern shifted from her own well-being to his.

"He's out." bragged Conner, noticing her draw of attention, "Halo-prometh just didn't do it for him did it? I cooked up a little cocktail of my own and he sleeps like a baby."

"Michael…" She croaked at the still figure.

A powerful hand snatched her jaw and forced her face back to look at Conner.

"You look at me when you say that. I want you to scream it at me!" he barked behind the mask.

_He_  was insane. Living out a fantasy as someone else. As a murderer! Amanda, Rita, and now she would die.

Fresh fight came to her and she wiggled her hand free of his, jabbing her fingers into one of his eye holes. She tried to kick at him and push him away. Conner roared and turned his head, grabbing to secure her hand then he brought a backhanded fist across her cheek. It turned her head brutally.

"Michael!" She yelled helplessly.

Conner fell on her, digging at her and flinging her about. Like he was trying to tear her apart, claw her skin off. He was an animal playing with it's prey right before it would devour it.

Then she felt him cease suddenly and there was space above her. As if he had simply disappeared.

* * *

Sleep was like a cliff for Michael. One he was dangling from. Digging his fingers into its invisible flesh to keep a hold of, to keep from falling awake. He hardly ever fully rested. Even now he could feel the desk under his arms and head. Someone was there in the room. But he didn't care. He was thinking about Angel. She was going to go talk to Judith. The thought made him want to shake. To tear down the building.

Judith would tell her what their mother had done and everything would be for nothing. He had died to keep Angel from knowing. Given up his life and sanity for her memories. Now she would find out and he couldn't stop her.

That thought struck him like electricity. He might be able to if he could leave. If he could get to Judith first. If he could kill her. Michael had never tried to escape, but he was suddenly confident he could if…

"Michael…" the sound of the voice was like a flood of benzodiazepine to his synapses. Tingling, liquid warmth saturating his brain.

Loomis.

Was  _she_  here too? In his deliberating dream? It wouldn't be the first time and he waited for her to show up in his mind.

"Michael!"

His eyebrows knotted beyond his shallow trance. That physical feeling tore him from the cliff and he plummeted into reality.

Stiffly he raised his head, odd scuffling sounds behind him. Creaking from the bed, gasping and rustling of the blanket.

Frowning, Michael thought of Conner. He would expect something like this from him and he turned around. But it wasn't Lacey.

Loomis.

Conner was wearing Michael's clothes, his mask. Something stirred dangerously in Michael.

Memories of Judith and her boyfriends having no regard for others and also teasing him until his cheeks burned with unwarranted shame. That it was Loomis confused him. She didn't look happy. Conner had spoken often about their relationship but Michael didn't have to see it. If nothing else, this was his room. It wouldn't happen here.

Getting to his feet, Michael felt the dregs of the injection Conner had given him causing his muscles to react slowly and crudely. Still he managed to come over to where Conner was on top of Loomis.

He grabbed him by the collar and jerked him backward then swung him around into the wall. Some faces that had survived the previous storm of Michael's temper now were knocked from their perches like dying birds. Conner flung out his arms to catch himself in surprise, bulging his eyes in the cavities of the black mask. Solid black, marble-like eyes centered in white as they set on Michael. Those weren't Connor's eyes. Still they trained on Michael and Conner struck out at him. The fist caught Michael's ear but it barely registered with him, only causing him to tilt his head slightly to the side.

The hot blaze was started in Michael's gut. He wanted more, he wanted it to burn him up. Grabbing the front of Conner's shirt, Michael brought him around, throwing him into the wall with the little sink and toilet. He hit hard, the toilet tripping him as he barely caught himself.

Michael wasn't in a hurry, he watched the man scramble to get up. Conner grabbed at the sink, straightening as Michael took a step towards him. Crouching over, Conner huffed and dove for him, an arm wound back, ready to throw a punch. When they met, Conner swung both arms one after the other, easily landing them on Michael's head. And Michael took it. He wanted this to last. It was what made him still feel alive. He didn't stumble or sway, he slowly reached up his hands, almost lovingly to the sides of Conner's head and clamped either side of the black mask. Then he spun and threw him towards the corner with the door, the mask and wig came off in his hands. Crumpled on the ground, Conner slowly gathered his arms and legs under him and Michael approached, the mask and hair still in his hand like a decapitated head.

But Conner suddenly sprung up, a hefty metal wrench in one hand and a chain with heavy metal cuffs on either end in the other. He swung the flail-like shackles at Michael ruthlessly. Michael barely ducked his head, his shoulder taking the impact. A sweet burst of pain branched through him and he sighed in satisfaction.

Bringing the hefty wrench around opposite, Conner caught Michael in the ribs. Michael charged forward with no care for the incoming assault. He put an arm up to Conner's neck, bulldozing him into the door.

His side aflame, Michael grabbed at the arm that held the chain and he thrust it into the corner of the door frame. There was a deadened snap as bone broke and the hand released the chains.

The orderly's eyes phased, hollowing behind their disguise and crystallizing in absolute fear, like Wesley's. He was wearing down, something that happened to others, not Michael. A cut bled freely over his Conner's eye and the cinderblock wall had grazed his head and face multiple places. The door suddenly burst open with the weight and Conner fell away from Michael's hold, twisting and jerking like a mouse fighting for it's life in a spring trap. He still clutched the wrench and ran frenziedly into the wall. Running, he was running. And like a cat, Michael had to follow but he bent to take up the shackles Conner had dropped. Stumbling, Conner went down the hall, tripping and falling over his own feet. The wrench swung loosely from his fingers, as if he had forgotten he still had it.

At a door, Conner struggled to flung it open, his broken arm dangling uselessly. Looking behind him he saw Michael closing in on him. With a choked gasp, Conner dove into the stairwell and made for the steps, clambering to escape.

Michael was patient, he let him keep climbing up. The chain dragged behind him as he pursued. At the second floor, Conner scrambled to the door and tried to open it but it was locked. Dropping the wrench felt in his pockets frantically, obviously he did not have the keys to let him through. Michael was just behind him and Conner grabbed the wrench and bolted to flee up the next set of stairs. Michael's mask had somehow managed to remain securely tied to his head and he could hear his own breath ricocheting back against his already diaphoretic, sticky skin.

At the next door, Conner started to pound and shout for help, leaving smudges of drying blood. He was about to start up to the ground floor when Michael decided he had let him go far enough and swung the chain at his legs, it caught enough to trip him up and Conner fell down heavily.

As Michael came to loom over him, Conner tried to hurl the wrench at him but Michael slapped it away, sending it through the railing and ringing as it subsequently hit the floor below.

"Mikey!" Conner gasped, tired and terrified as Michael took hold of his good arm.

"We're friends remember? Remember everything I did for you!? Remember I found your sister! I mailed that letter three years ago! Let me go man! Go get Loomis, she's down there waiting for you! I got her for you!"

The ramble floated by Michael's ears, the chain jangling in his hands as he put a cuff on his caretaker wrist tightly. Then he gathered him up, lifting the tall man from the floor.

"Mikey…! Michael!" Conner wailed as Michael threw him over the railing from three stories.

There was a metallic snap and Michael stood for a moment, heaving air and looking down at what he had done. Then he peered upward, to the surface and the way out.

But he had to go back. His t shirt had been torn at the neck from the fight and he must have taken some good blows from Conner for there was blood dripping from under his mask onto the front. None of this he cared for. Only dogged obsession volted his muscles into movement like a programed robot.

The door to his room was ajar and he walked back into it.

Loomis was still there although it looked as though she had slid from the bed to the floor. Lethargically she lay on her belly, her free hand feeling about with a mind of it's own. Hair in disarray, Michael could see parts of her face that were reddened and swollen. Blood oozed from the corner of her mouth and nose as she mewled into the cement floor.

* * *

Sammy knew she only had precious seconds if one of them came back. Her thoughts sloped thickly in her brain like mud and her legs and arms were not obeying her. Where were the other orderlies? Why hadn't someone noticed all this? Conner had picked his night to attack well. No cameras working on this level, most of the staff in the break room distracted, and Conner himself probably told everyone that he'd patrol the bottom floor himself. How long had it been since….she had found Rita? Ten minutes? Twenty? Longer?

Her ears rang and reports of pain and injuries resounded from everywhere in her. When she felt the pressure about her upper arms and her body being lifted she cranked her head to see who was there.

Instant convulsions took her at beholding the orange, jack-o-lantern inches away from her as Michael held her under her arms like a child. She wiggled with all she had left but there was nothing she could do, and she was still cuffed to the frame.

Then she was dropped on the bed and Michael stood there for a moment, his head tilted bizarrely. Then he leaned forward, closing in on her.

"N...No…!" Sammy didn't know which of them was worse but at this point it wouldn't matter. She had expected many times to die tonight, even in the drugged state she was, this was sharp and clear in her understanding.

As close as he was, she smelt the earthy scent of the dried paint on his mask and the heated sweat from his skin. Now she could see Michael's dilated eyes in the shadow sheltered recess of his mask. Hovering over her he put down a supporting hand by her ear. Those inky pupils darted about abruptly, sometimes zigzagging her over, sometimes stopping to bore down into hers.

"Please, do it quick…" she whispered up to him.

For how long he peered down at her she couldn't measure and it began to feel like torture to wait and think about how she would die. Then Michael reached up, his hand slowly traveling like a gliding bird, but passing her throat and she heard the soft jingling of...keys.

He eased up into a standing position and considered her for a moment more as she just lay there, bewildered and confused. Turning he opened the door and left.

It may have been from the astonishment of his unpredictable action or from holding her breath but Sammy blacked out.

* * *

The police cruiser pulled to a stop in the empty, grocery store parking lot as Judith listened to the reports that had suddenly swarmed her radio.

Codes and responding units cluttered the airwaves. Patient breach at Smith's Grove, call for units to respond, multiple assaults, multiple murders. Suspect at large...

An excited anxiety had her tensed forward, listening. She had already had a bad night. An ogre of a trucker had passed her on the right and almost ran her off the road. When she had made the traffic stop, he was rude, insulting and disrespectful. An old anger had awakened inside of her and she had strained to keep her temper in check. Giving him the highest possible amount she could on the ticket and a reprimand barely within the confines of her job and the law.

But this erased all of that. What she had been waiting for came minutes later and the smoldering hostility she kept lulled and dormant, began to stir.

Two suspects, one neutralized. Other is still at large, containment units are now searching the sanitarium level by level.

"White male is a patient, mid-twenties. About 6', 195 lbs. Hair is long and dark blonde, eyes, black…" the dispatcher stumbled over the last part of the description. "...from dilation condition. Suspect is wearing blue sweatpants and a grey t shirt and a mask that resembles a jack-o-lantern..."

Judith threw her car into drive and squealed her tires onto the road. It was him. Michael.

She wanted to find him first. He wasn't at the hospital, she was sure of that.

"Rathmore," her local radio sputtered.

Snatching up the mic she said, "Right here sheriff." She tried to keep her voice calm.

"Did you hear the jabber?"

"Yeah." She was driving for the highway.

"Ok, they think he might still be there but just in case I want you sticking around, patrolling town and looking for him. We aren't the closest place but he's not right in the head, he may come this way." Said the static voice of Brackett.

"Yes sir." Judith said as she pulled into a gas station on the edge of town. "Just fueling up."

"Keep your receipt...but gas only! Don't try to sneak those rockstars on there again!" snarked Brackett.

"10-4." Judith cut him off and went into the Halloween decorated market without refueling. Minutes later she drove onto the dark highway and headed in the direction of Smith's Grove.

If she could help it, she would be the last person he ever saw.

"Suspect is identified as Michael Myers." crackled the cb.

A strange and twitching smile came to Judith's face as she looked at the clock.

12:01am.

"Happy Halloween Michael." She breathed.

* * *

There was a roaming fog that hazed the rare headlights from the highway not far off. It was cold and steam rose from the open pavilion-like port of the Truck Wash that stayed open all night to accommodate drivers schedules. A large Mac pulled in with a silver tanker behind it.

A large man jumped down from the cab wearing khaki-green coveralls and holding a folded magazine in his hand.

After giving the three bored attendants a lecture to be careful of his new paint job, Big Joe headed for the restroom at the urging of his guts. He had just eaten at a sketchy mexican place back in that hole call Haddonfield after being pulled over by some witch of a cop who didn't know how to drive around convoying trucks. Joe was in no mood for anything else tonight.

The restroom was at the far end of the building and around the corner. The loud noise of the power hoses and blaring 80's rock weren't as loud here and when Joe shut the door he was glad for the solitude.

It was cramped and looking like it hadn't been cleaned since the last him he'd been through this part of the country 5 months ago. Joe frowned in disgust and looked into the smudged mirror at his broad face that was framed by some very impressive sideburn-chops. His eyes bulged, he was tired and need to rest but he wanted to make it to Newark to stop at a decent motel tonight.

Settling into the narrow stall, his intentions an unhurried stay as he opened up his magazine. But not more than a couple minutes later the parched hinges of the outside door creaked as it opened. There was a somewhat usable urinal so Joe didn't worry about it and continued his 'reading'.

Shuffling feet dragged over the gritty floor and came to a stop in front of the stall, matted black boots visible in the space under the door.

Big Joe glared at them from over top of his magazine. Nobody had manners anymore, but he had always known people were ignorant and didn't know any better so he just ignored it.

Then a slow knock tested his patience.

Still in a friendly a manner as he could manage for a man in is position, Joe told the man he would be a little while and to respect a distance. Again the knock came, more forcefully.

No stranger to altercation and not often intimidated, Joe felt his self restraint wearing thin. And put it in terms slightly clearer if not crude.

Still persistent and stupid, the idiot kept on. Joe would school him. He took out his hunting knife and shimmied back into his drawers, then opened the door. A grinning, orange face greeted him and before he could bring out his shank he was slammed backward.

Five minutes later he lay on the floor next to the filthy toilet. In shock, he could still feel the two holes in his side, the warm blood gushing out onto his hand that feebly tried to dam it in. Who was that? What had happened?


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. All original characters and plot are the property of the author. No copyright infringement is intended.

It was cold walking down the bleak hallway of the sanitarium. Most of the lights were out and Sammy shivered. Looking into a room she didn't see anyone and she went to the next. Where were all the patients? Then she saw the blood on the doors, splatters blooming like dark, frozen fireworks, long streaks where fingers had mauled at the surface to get in.

Looking down, Sammy saw the trail of red going all the way down the hall. She didn't follow it, she turned to run away but saw the bodies behind her, sprawled out on the floor and propped up against the wall. All mangled and dead. Who ever had done it was here and Sammy wanted to scream, but she couldn't. Nothing came out of her mouth. She reached to bring her hands to her face in panicked confusion and saw the knife in her hand, dressed in glistening scarlet. Her hands, her hands were covered also.

Shaking, she went to touch her face and felt the rough and tissuey surface. A mask, she was wearing a mask. She had done this she realized.

The knife clattered to the ground and she opened her jaw as wide as it would go but nothing came out but an absence of air.

Then she was laying down, the sound of her own desperate voice startling her. Hands. There were hands on her and other people talking to her, telling her to calm down.

"I'll get her something!" Said a woman.

"No! She's alright! Loomis! Easy! It's Oscar Klein. Listen to me, you need to settle down!" he had her by the wrists as she continued to struggle. "Open your eyes Loomis!"

Sammy didn't want to open her eyes, what if she was still there, in that room?

"Open your eyes Samantha!" Klein ordered her taking her chin roughly.

She cracked her eyes open to a dim hospital room. Klein was leaning over her, like Conner had, like Michael had and she began to shake again. A thin whine escaped her throat.

"Lay still now." Klein eased her back down into the pillow. "You're ok."

Hot tears spilled down both sides of her head, "M...Michael…, Conner…"

Seeing her now coming to herself, Klein took his hands away carefully, "Conner...they found him in the stairway, arm disjointed and dangling from the railing by a set of hobbles. He'd been beaten severely."

"It was him. Conner killed Rita!" Sobbed Sammy.

Klein looked over at the woman in brightly colored scrubs with cartoon characters on them.

"Give us a minute please nurse." He asked and the woman frowned, obviously curious and hoping to listen in more. But she left reluctantly.

Sammy felt drained as she cried, shivering in the thin hospital gown and under the loose-knit spread that did little to insulate from the cold.

"Yes, we're figured as much. There were three other guards found dead as well. Two more knocked silly. We are trying to figure out who is responsible for what." Klein tried to speak objectively but the content still bore it's awful message.

Swallowing at the horrid memories, Sammy put her hands to her tender face as if it could block them out.

"Conner's dead?" She finally asked.

There was a pause but the delayed reply surprised her.

"No. Billy and the other's found you first, called the authorities." sighed Klein, "Conner was chained to the railing by his wrist, passed out when the police came and searched the building. He had a disjointed elbow and shoulder and his other arm was broken. He had been terribly assaulted, like you."

Quickly, Sammy informed him, "It was Conner who...did this to me. Not Michael."

"The police searched Slone's vehicle, found drug paraphernalia for making and distributing. Much of the pills he had to have taken from Smith's Grove. There were masks of Michael's, pictures of women from outside their houses. Of you too…"

"And Michael?" She finally dared to ask for she was sure they must have gunned him down as he wandered the halls, bodies everywhere.

Klein also seemed to not want to respond and he couldn't hold eye contact with her.

"Dr. Klein...what happened to Michael Myers?" she pressed the soreness in her body beginning to surface as if her analgesics were wearing off.

Gravely, the older man shook his head, "We don't know. He's gone."

This quaked her.

"H-How…" She stammered, unable to fathom it.

"He had thrown a med cart through my office window. Those windows are reinforced with cheap security glass. But he had keys to get in." Klein rubbed his forehead, kneading the lined skin.

Remembering him hovering over her, reaching for the keys Conner must have taken, Sammy had to flinch from a compound emotion of fear, helplessness, and rapt curiosity.

"Um, he'll...he'll come here. To Haddonfield." She stated confidently, trying to fend off the confusing memory.

Klein continued to massage his forehead and temples, his headache obviously undaunted.

"That was our first assumption. Local law enforcement has been notified and they are watching for him. But there was, another body found. Ten miles north, the other side of the hospital. A truck driver was stabbed and before he died, he said the suspect was wearing an orange 'pumpkin mask'."

A reflexive doubt made Sammy want to argue. It was irrational of her to say the least. As Klein said, he was moving north, the opposite direction. Then the subsequent thought filled her with glacial alarm. Angel...Laurie.

"His sister." She said even as the thought continued to develop, "What if he comes back for Laurie? We've got to tell her. Where's my phone?"

Frowning, Klein shook his head, "Found it in the hallway, Conner...someone had crushed it."

Sammy cursed at herself for not writing the number down separately. Laurie had requested that her visit would be kept confidential with little explanation.

"Loomis, try to get some rest. They will find Myers. He won't get far." Klein stood, putting a light hand on her shoulder.

Delicately, Sammy tried to keep her face impassive, "And what will they do?"

"I believe they are authorized to use deadly force if they have to."

Part of Sammy wanted to protest that he was a mentally ill person and that such aggression was inhumane, but she knew Michael better. If he was indeed out and on a rampage, he would be very capable of causing damage. And he wouldn't give in. Another tucked away memory came to her. In the shower room, covered in desperate orderlies trying to subdue him, Michael did yield didn't he? Perhaps she was feeling a bit privileged in what her influence might be over him, if it  _was_  her influence. But after all, she had been in more than one compromising situation where he could have killed her and didn't.

"Let me come. If I'm there, maybe he'll come quietly." She began to sit up and Klein stepped towards her forbiddingly.

"No Loomis. You're injured. The doctor would like you to stay for a day or two. I will do what I can for Michael. I promise you that." he said it professionally, but there was sympathy with it.

Embarrassed that he might think her inappropriately attached, Sammy decided to forgo any further argument.

They were confident they could capture him and they might be due it. Michael Myers wasn't immortal after all.

The doctor came in and discussed her injuries and treatment plan and both he and Klein left after that.

Sammy lay there, still and calm on the outside, but inside her mind couldn't rest.

Someone had to tell Laurie and if Michael showed up, intervene for his sake. Local law enforcement may be alerted but Sammy was not 100% assured. She should go find Laurie but she hadn't gotten her address. It was Monday morning and she had told Sammy that she was a student at the local community college which was a few blocks away.

She was sitting up, dropping her legs off the side of the raised bed.

If Sammy could just find her and have her stay home where she was safe she would feel much better.

The gaps in the back of her gown let in the chilled air and Sammy looked around for her clothes. Then she remembered they had been torn, stained and probably weren't useable. She was on an IV and hooked up to the monitor by the finger clip. She knew the equipment and turned it off so it wouldn't sound an alert when she carefully took the needle from her arm. If she told the staff she was going to leave, she was worried they would contest it and keep her there. There was no time for that. As much as she wanted to believe Michael wouldn't hurt his sister, she wasn't sure and would feel better as soon as she warned her.

Writing a note promising she'd be back, Sammy left it on her pillow. Her wallet and personal keys had been brought and she grabbed those.

Obviously she couldn't go over to the college in a hospital gown so she went out in the hall. The sun was up and she saw a clock that said almost 9am. Only a janitor and two people who looked like visitors passed her and she hoped they wouldn't notice her. Walking wobbly, her hand catching the wall, she looked at the other doors along the way until she saw a supply room. Testing the knob, it was unlocked and she went in.

Sammy left the hospital in their emerald green surgical scrubs, even a worse color than the blue of Smith's Grove. Her car wasn't in the parking lot so Sammy had to walk. Turning her barefeet towards the college, she hurried along the lanes of fallen leaves.

Luckily, there was a thrift clothing store along the way. The attendant eyed her and Sammy laughed nervously telling her she was in her halloween costume. The girl commented on the exceptional makeup job that looked as though she'd been beaten up and Sammy winced as she tried to nod and smile. She bought a pair of jeans, t shirt, hoodie, and a pair of slip on shoes.

Nervously she continued to the campus, searching the streets she looked for Laurie or Michael. Her analytical self kept questioning if she was actually  _hoping_  to see Michael and she finally admitted that she was. But only in the sense that she wanted to try to bring him in without anyone getting hurt.

* * *

Even in the dark Michael could find his way home. Like a call through the thick fog he followed the sound of home in his mind. The twisted, balding branches veined the way before him and he could see it. It was dark, but he could see. His wide eyes absorbed what light there was and he could make out the definitions of the woodland around him. The sound of the highway wasn't far and he could hear the wail of sirens.

So he ran. How long had it been since he'd ran? It was euphoric. The sweet, damp air flavored in molting leaves and the tang of wet earth filled his lungs like unstretched balloons. His heart flushed burning blood through his muscles and white vapor came from around the edges of his mask. He pushed and pushed himself, not wanting to stop even when his chest and legs had reached their limit, feeling as though they would explode.

How long he traveled meant nothing for it never had. He had sacrificed time as well as other commodities of the mind such as distance, freedom, trust and dignity long ago. Everything that made a person civilized, human. What was left? The barest of instinct? Survival? Rage? Revenge?

Something. Something was left and he ran towards it.

Soon, signs of society began to show. Fences, houses, the gas station on the fringe of town that he and his dad would go to to get slurpees when he had done well in school. The sign at the side of the road read: "Haddonfield".

His home wasn't far from there. Along the railroad tracks and behind the warehouse district. Through a little ravine and the woods to the older neighborhood that might have been prime real estate back in the '30's when the houses were first built. His father had wanted to live in a newer subdivision, but his mother liked the older homes with their tall ceilings, for their 'character'.

Michael hadn't minded. He loved the yard and that he was promised his own room although Judith had protested having to share with Angel until the baby was put in with him. Michael hadn't minded that either.

But the same street looked different now. Tired and faded from the one he had ridden his bike up and down. And his house, it was black and hollow. The windows were all covered on the main floor with hashed plywood, denying entry but he went to the back yard.

With an agile jump, he caught the lip of the back porch overhang and pulled himself up, climbing until he got to a glassless window and he went inside. It was his mother's room although no furniture remained. A mephitic smell hung in the air but he still breathed it like it was any other. It was decay and neglect. It was hopelessness.

The carpet had been soaked through with rain and whatever else temporary visitors had graced it with. The walls had holes in the plaster and graffiti that he passed by. The door to the hallway was missing. He remembered seeing pictures of it in court, something about the way the blood was portrayed on it. Judith's blood underlying his mother's that told of who had been killed last.

First it was Ronnie then Steven. Then he fell over the bannister….how had that happened? He had never quite remembered. After, Angel had been put in the bags. Then Judith was stabbed and finally his mother stabbed herself. He squinted to see if the blood was still there on the floor, running slowly over to the railing down the the foyer. Dripping.

No. It had dried up into dust a long time ago or soaked into the thirsty wood floor. He went to his room which was also empty and colorless. The old maple tree tapped against the house politely with a rising wind. His curtains were in tatters and the print of cartoon superheros were sun bleached and invisible, but Michael could see them still.

Squatting down on his heels in his room he hung his head, unable to bar his mind from the memories any longer.

Playing on the carpet with Angel. His X-men building towers for Angel's favorite stuffed bunny she called Fufu. Angel liked to chew on it's nose. She'd chewed a hole in it and he would hide skittles in it. The stitching was ripped in it's stomach and no matter how many times his mother mended it it always reopened.

This led to another memory, when he had seen Angel running into the busy street. Her bunny Fufu lay in the traffic. He went after her wondering how the toy had gotten there. With the cars rushing about them, horns honking he reached her and lifted her the best he could. She struggled, saying she wanted her rabbit so he went for it. The traffic began to halt and he heard his mother yelling at him, screaming. She thought it was his fault. Maybe it was. He remembered being dragged back to the sidewalk and Judith shaking her head at him disgustedly. Would his mother have heard him or believed it if he told her what had happened? He had taken the blame for so much, maybe that was why he had decided to take the blame for...Halloween. As long as someone did, as long as Boo was ok.

Popcorn and watching movies with dad and mom and even Judith sometimes. Mom singing in the kitchen while she chopped vegetables.

' _Don't touch the knife Michael...it's sharp.'_  he remembered her saying. But dad had given him a pocket knife and he went outside to use it.

There were less movie nights after his father died. Mom was gone and it was just him and Angel downstairs. Judith told them they couldn't come upstairs when she had her 'friends' over. He hated that, what she was doing. He could hear…

Judith and Mom would fight or Mom and Ronnie. The contention pressed on his chest like something heavy was crushing it. He took Boo outside to play in the sandbox. He told her not to bring her bunny, he'd get all dirty but she would look back at the house and told him she was scared to leave it in there. So he made the bunny a blanket of leaves and grass to sit on.

Michael could still hear the words that floated out from the open windows from one of the fights.

' _I love you Judith, I would do anything for you! Why won't you believe that?_ '

' _You would? Kill them. Kill Michael and Angel.'_

There was a sharp slapping sound and Judith cursed viciously.

Then his mother exploded shrilly, ' _How about everyone Judith? Just for you? Why not you too? I'll just put everyone out of their misery!'_

Now Michael felt a violent shiver go through his shoulders and prickled down his back. No, this wasn't his mother's fault, it was Judith's. She had driven her to it. Ended everything. Like she had his pet rat. He had found him in a bucket behind the house by the water faucet and vomited at the state of him. When he had spit out all of what had caught in his mouth and nose he looked behind him to see Judith staring at him. Blood covered her hands. She tilted her head to the side in such a way it made him want to run away.

But what about his mother and Angel? He had to stay.

Judith had always been tall and posed like a monster in his young mind. But now he had grown. He could face her now.

Shelving the memories and standing up he went to Judith's room. An old mattress lay on the ground and some magazines, empty beer bottles. With one hand he grabbed at a corner that hemorrhaged foam and canvas and flung it across the room. Then he knelt to the floorboards feeling with his fingers until one of the slats of wood shifted. They had warped and wedged and it took a good yank to free the first one, but he pulled up the two more boards and plunged his hand into the hole.

First he brought up a soft, pink ear, somewhat ruined with the years. Fufu still gave it's half-smile with glazed eyes. Then he reached in again, feeling the gummy surface of the fake skin. Out came the face. A face that he had remembered for 15 years. It was Steve's mask from Halloween night and now Michael remembered standing over him. Steve's hand had been pointing towards something, no reaching. The bunny lay next to the open floor and that was what Michael thought had been the boy's last thought. That's when Michael had seen the mask in the secret hiding place. Angel had been holding his hand and asked if she could put Fufu in there, to keep him safe so he wouldn't bleed too.

Droopy, paralyzed features of pale latex looked back at him, daring him. Those eyes were blacker than his, deeper and unable to feel pain. They dared him. With his other hand he reached up to the back of his head and fumbled with the straps that held his mask on. When it fell free, he hesitated and put his fingers to his own face, feeling the trueness of it.

Standing, he went to the bathroom, only a sliver of the reflective mirror remained in a top corner. He could have never seen it when he was 10. But now he had to bend slightly and he looked. Michael looked at his real face, section by section. In the hospital, he had never bothered to look.

He was not the same. It was someone familiar but not him. Stringy hair and full beard. Broad boned brow and cheeks and low eyebrows heavy with years of numbing stagnancy.

Lights passed through the little window and the ease of brakes pulled Michael from his thoughts. He went to look down from the window to see a van had parked in the driveway and instant fury made him clench the frizzy hair of the mask he still held.

Michael moved back into the shadows, putting the mask on as he did.

* * *

Weaving her way through the parking lot of the college, Laurie buttoned her 'old lady sweater' as Annie called it. Bulk, blue yarn knit with beige and red designs on it. She hadn't put in her contacts so she wore her black frame glasses. She had done the minimum of getting ready today. It was Halloween and the one day a year you could look like the walking dead and get away with it. Other students had totally dressed up like zombies, star wars and batman characters. It made Laurie feel a little old as she had given up costumes a long time ago.

She had been up most of the night studying for a test she had just taken and was done with her morning classes. Usually she would go to the library or the quad and study but she had finally gotten up the nerve to go to the police station. She was going to see her sister Judith.

Seeing him, Michael, her brother had been a shock. Just the sudden reality that she even had a brother and that he was a piece of her horrible past was already overwhelming to her.

Caved over, shaggy hair dangling from his bowed head, she couldn't even describe the eerie feeling the mask tied to his face gave her. For a second she wondered if he had indeed killed them because he looked deranged. Large shoulders, long legs but his hands were not burly. They were narrow and he had long deft fingers stained in old color.

Laurie couldn't say why the letter had affected her so, but somehow she just couldn't believe he had done it and she wanted him to deny it or admit it. When he did neither but stare at her like she was a ghost or like she was a piece of the wall that had suddenly sat in the chair, it had made her angry...or sad. Did she have some of this derangement inside of her? Her insides squirmed at the thought and she wanted to absolve him, in doing so, maybe she would her own doubts and fears.

Judith was older, she would remember. It had taken a few days to decide how she would approach her, confront her. Had her sister thought of her over the years? Michael had been locked away, he couldn't come find her. Judith could have and didn't. Her mom, Cynthia told her she would be having a lot of confusing feelings and to be patient with herself.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket and she took it out, thinking it was Annie or Lynda. They hadn't planned anything much for Halloween because Annie had to babysit. But Lynda wanted to go to the Spook Festival they had yearly down in city park. Then they would meet up with Annie after and watch scary movies.

It was Annie.

"Hey Sugar." chirped Annie and Laurie knew her friend well enough to know when she was shmoozing.

"Hey Annie, what's up?"

Hurriedly her friend said, "Oh nothing nothing. Just hanging out, bored at work."

Annie worked at a clothing store not far and there wasn't much business usually this time of day.

"Had some weird girl in scrubs and a sad make up job come in and buy a whole outfit she changed into and she just left. She got those cute destroyed skinny jeans I've been wanting to get. I wanted to slap her."

Laurie let out an 'mmmm', not fully paying attention.

But Annie filled in, "Have you heard from Lynda?"

Having found her mom's car she had borrowed, Laurie pinched the phone to her ear with her shoulder to dig for the keys in her pocket, "Nope, not since last night."

"Yeah me neither. So ever since you had asked about that Myers guy, she looked into it and saw that the house where all that happened in is abandoned over on the westside. So she was going to take Bob there last night for a 'romantic' getaway. Sometimes that girl creeps me out!" Annie spilled.

There was a chill go through Laurie. That was  _her_  house, her horrible tragedy that others looked on for entertainment.

"Wow, that's pretty skanky." She said lamely as she got settled in her car. "She'll call. She never gets up until after noon anyway. That's what happens when your parents are rich and you don't have any particular ambition to be productive."

There was a giggle on the other end of the line, "Hey that's a little mean Laur! You're  _never_  mean! It must be Halloween! By midnight you'll change into a monster under the full moon! Sexy beast."

Rolling her eyes, Laurie was in no mood to joke around and she began to drive to the exit.

"Sorry, I'm just really stressed. I'll give Lynda guilt candy tonight to ease my conscience."

"Don't. What are friends for if you can't talk trash about them? I mean, you should have heard what she said about your grandma sweater...you're not wearing that are you?"

"Annie, I gotta go, not driving hands free. I'll talk to you later ok?" Laurie was done.

"Oh wait! I called you to ask you a huge favor!" Annie sped and toned up her voice.

Laurie groaned, she knew it.

"What?"

"Well, Paul, he wanted to come over tonight and I told him my girls always come first so he'd have to figure something else out. So we thought maybe, if you watched Lindsay Wallace for me earlier I could get Paul out of the way and we could still have our sista fiesta!" Gushed Annie.

_Sister_.

"I really don't think so, I was going to go with Lynda to the festival." Laurie said, thinking of Judith.

"Come on Laurie! I'll even give you an extra $10! Plus you can keep what they were going to pay me!" begged Annie.

Sighing Laurie knew her friend would blow up her phone with texts nagging her all day. It was almost just easier to say yes. She hated the festival anyhow. Halloween had never been a big deal for her and now that she knew what had happened to her family on that day she was even more disenchanted.

"Alright." She said only to receive a squeaky squeal of delight splitting her ear and she pulled the phone away.

"Thank you thank you thank you!"

"No problem ok? But I've gotta hang up now Annie! Text me the times and whatever. Bye." Laurie ended the call before receiving the reciprocal farewell.

Haddonfield wasn't a large town and getting to the police station was a matter of small minutes.

When she pulled into the lot she turned her engine off and took a deep breath before getting out.

There were paper images of ghosts and pumpkins on the windows, even a porcelain pumpkin sitting on the reception desk full of candy where one of the deputies sat swiping at his phone inattentively.

"Hi." Laurie said as she came to stand in front of him.

Strange, this felt like when she was trying to see Michael but he was in a prison, Judith worked for the police!

"What can I do for ya?" Asked the deputy who uncrossed his leg and looked up at her.

"Well I was looking for...um, is Sheriff Brackett here?" She asked. He was Annie's father and she'd feel more comfortable talking to him about it.

"Nope, he's due back any minute though if you want to wait." the man said.

Pausing for a moment, Laurie bit her lip. She was just trying to come up with an excuse to back out.

"Well how about Judith...Officer...Deputy Rathmore?" She shifted from one foot to the other nervously.

He looked at her more curiously now, "She's off duty until this afternoon. Can I give them a message for ya?"

"No." Laurie shook her head quickly, "I think I'll come back…"

Then the door to the back offices opened and Lee Brackett came in in his tan and brown uniform. His dark hair was giving up ground to the grey of his age that also lightened his walrus mustache.

"Laurie?" he said surprised when he saw her. "Everything ok?"

With a forced smile, Laurie nodded, "Yes! I was just on my way home from school I…"

The station was definitely not on the way to her house and Brackett of course knew that because they lived in the same neighborhood within three blocks. Still he smiled at her and turned to the other deputy.

"Mitch, go give the cells a once over. We'll probably have a few guests tonight. Halloween always makes some people act like weirdos." he threw his thumb over his shoulder.

"Ok," Doyle grunted as he got up, "Oh by the way the soda company finally restocked our machine."

"Great." Brackett said then added back to the man, "Did the city works park their wood chipper in the garage?"

The deputy nodded, "They're going to start taking down those trees across the street tomorrow or the next day."

Then he left and Sheriff Brackett went over to the desk, taking his coat to put it on an old-school coat stand.

"Are you going to the Festival tonight? I know Annie wanted to go but she's got to babysit." Bracket said as he sat down, looking casually through some papers on the desk in front of him.

"Huh? Oh no...actually yes I think so...I haven't really decided. My parents are going to stay home…" She rambled then jumped when the phone rang, interrupting her.

"Sorry hun, one minute." He picked up the phone, "Haddonfield Sheriff's office. This is Sheriff Brackett."

Laurie stood anxiously, fussing at a snag in her sweater. Why was she suddenly so nervous? It was almost as bad as waiting at Smith's Grove.

"No. Everything's been quiet here. No sign of him. We'll keep a look out. Let us know when you get him. Thanks Ross. Bye." Brackett hung up the phone and looked back up at her.

"Sorry about that. Anyway, look Laurie. Is there something bothering you? In all my years I've known you, you've only come down here twice. Once to report your pet rabbit stolen when you were nine, what was his name? Fifi? And once to bring me those horrible cupcakes you and Annie made for my birthday with ice cream in the middle six years ago."

Blushing, Laurie remembered both times and couldn't help an honest grin, " _Her_  name was Fufu. And those cupcakes were so soggy I'm sorry! Yes actually I was wondering if Deputy Rathmore was here? I really need to talk to her."

Friendly smile fading a bit, Brackett shook his head. "She's not scheduled until this afternoon. Did she write ya a ticket or something? She's pretty liberal on citations."

"No. No it was just something else. I'll try to catch her another day I guess." Laurie waved at him in reassurance and started towards the door. Then she stopped and turned around to see the Sheriff watching her carefully.

"Do you think you could give her a message for me?" She asked.

Shrugging he said, "Sure. What is it?"

"Tell her...tell her Angel was looking for her. Thanks Sheriff." Laurie smiled like it was a joke, waved and left before he could ask anything further.

The sun felt hotter now as she hurried back towards her car, feeling in her sweater pocket for the car keys. It was ridiculous to put them there because they always got caught in the weave and she had to work them out carefully. So now she would run back home to work on homework and forget all about this for the day. Forget about  _them_ , her brother and sister.

She happened to glance across the street where an old commercial plaza sat vacant. But in front of it was a bus stop. It had an enclosure of plexiglass that was fogged from years in the sun and scratched messages in it. She thought she saw someone inside and squinted against the glare.

There was, a tall man and at first she thought he had a distorted face of some sort but then realized it was a mask. White and lumpy, she decided it was someone making a lame attempt to dress as 'the joker' or something. It was hard to see what he was looking at, but he faced in her direction. When she had finally gotten the keys free and opened the door she looked again, seeing the man still there and now she was certain he was watching her. A rare batch of cars passed in front of her, obstructing her visual connection and when the last had cleared he was gone.

Laurie was really beginning to hate halloween.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. All original characters and plot are the property of the author. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> Rough Chp

 

After wandering the leaf scattered campus of the college for almost an hour, Sammy gave up. All her efforts had rewarded her with was aches in her injuries and a building anxiety that something would happen if she couldn't find Laurie soon. Sammy wondered where they had put her car. Probably still at Smith's Grove. She walked stiffly to the bus stop, remembering that it stopped close to her apartment and went home.

When she got there, feeling exhausted and very much in tune with the complaints in her body Sammy forced herself to get her laptop out and looked up Laurie's name. Strode. It wasn't listed in the online phone index and she decided she wasn't surprised for it. Searching on Facebook she found Laurie's profile but of course it was a limited page and there was no phone number or address. Sammy left her a quick message to get back to her IM as soon as possible. In one of Laurie's friend's open profile she found the photos, in one Laurie was standing in front of a nice house and she could see the number and a decorative sign 'Strode' above it. It wasn't much help but she wrote it down anyway. Then she clicked through some more pictures until she came to a picture with Laurie and two other girls smiling. They were outside and behind them she could see a sub division sign reading 'Leafy Ridge'. The area was across town, probably over half an hour's walk and she was not looking forward to the exercise.

No car, no phone Sammy felt almost helpless but remembered she could make a call from her email account and dialed the Sheriff's office, cringing at the pain in her leg and shoulder.

"Sheriff's Office this is Deputy Doyle." Said the lazy voice.

"Hi Deputy. My name's Samantha Loomis. I'm an employee at Smith's Grove. I was calling to warn you that the escaped patient is probably coming here to Haddonfield..."

With an annoyed snort the Deputy cut her off, "Look. I know it's Halloween and you kids don't have nothin' better to do but call me up but don't you have a new story? How about Zombies at the laundromat?"

Taken back, Sammy stammered, "N..No Deputy. I'm completely serious. If you call the hospital, they'll tell you who I am…" it was starting to sound desperate, "Michael Myers lived here and I'm sure he'll come back. His sister is here and I'm worried for her. Her name's…"

"You know it's illegal to waste a cop's time? Filing a false report? I've already got vandalism, assault, and a stolen motorbike and even stolen grave stones in the last half hour. Now if you have an emergency then give me the address and we'll be right over. Otherwise, if you call again we'll have ourselves some trouble." The connected severed.

Sammy struggled through her bewilderment and then became angry. The police probably did get a lot of prank calls on halloween but how could they hang up on her? Deputy Doyle. She'd remember him she thought with a sniff.

So there would be nothing else to do but to find Laurie herself and if she was right, that Michael did come back, Sammy knew she couldn't underestimate him. They said he had killed another man already since his escape. She hobbled to her bedroom and from under her bed pulled out a little black case and from there a black tint revolver her father had given her when she went to college by herself. Taking it back out to the front room she sat down and opened it up and stared at it. For the first time she loaded it but left it on the table.

She had to lay back against the cushions of her couch to close her eyes for just a moment and suddenly felt very drowsy. A forceful knock at the door awoke her. She hadn't even noticed she had fallen asleep and she looked at the clock on the wall. Just past 4pm. She'd slept for five hours.

Again the knock came and with it a strict voice.

"Miss Samantha Loomis? Open the door, Sheriff's department."

Getting to her feet as best she could, Sammy limped over to the door and opened it, the security chain still latched.

The woman deputy standing there struck Sammy as very familiar. She was tall and definitely intimidating physically. Her blonde streaked hair was pulled back in a functional, doubled ponytail and she wore sunglasses that hid her eyes. With a firm jaw and severe mouth the deputy looked Sammy over.

"Are you Miss Samantha Loomis?" she inquired.

Still groggy, Sammy nodded, "Yes."

"I'm deputy Rathmore. We got a call from the Haddonfield hospital. They said you had left without giving notice and obviously against medical advice. They're worried you may be incompetent of your own well being."

Rathmore, she was the one that had pulled her over a while ago wasn't she? It was so hard to think right now and she had been very upset at the time.

Stifling an insulted scoff Sammy reposed herself, "I assure you I'm fine and I intend to settle everything with the hospital. But I'm glad to see you deputy. The patient that escaped Smith's Grove, Michael Myers, I am well acquainted with his case and I'm sure he'll come back here where he grew up."

The deputy's face fell and she took off her shades slowly. The hard face was beautiful but cold, like a Mir mine diamond. The woman's study of her struck Sammy as odd but perhaps she recognised Sammy also. Just as quickly the deputy cleared her throat and took on her original 'no nonsense' air.

"Ma'am, I assure you they'll find the patient and we've had reports from Kane county that they've found traces of him there. We're also on alert, if he does come here we'll deal with him. You have nothing to worry about. Now I suggest you call the hospital and straighten your business out with them. It's a class D misdemeanor. Sign the proper papers before you walk out the door."

Frustrated, Sammy sighed, "I will. I would have taken care of it already but I haven't had a chance to replace my phone deputy and my car is still at the Sanitarium. But officer...I'm sorry, Deputy, Myers has a sister in the area...I think she should be warned."

Now the glint of a smile on the woman's face made Sammy wonder if she had actually seen it.

"Could you open this door Ma'am?" Asked Rathmore shortly.

Sammy hesitated but didn't want to have the woman arrest her for being resistive.

"Of course." Sammy closed the door and took the chain off from the lock then opened it a little wider.

"Do you mind if I come in?" Rathmore pressed.

Here Sammy paused. Her nerves were completely worn and she felt she couldn't deal with much more.

"I would rather not Deputy. I'm not feeling very good and I think I'll lay down." came the true excuse.

The woman was probably close to six feet tall and she easily looked over Sammy's shoulder.

"Is that your firearm?"

Although the gun was sitting out in the open, Sammy was still surprised that she had seen it so easily.

Nodding boldly she replied, "Yes it is. I have an Illinois permit for it."

"I'd like to see that Ma'am." Rathmore pressed.

To do it, Sammy had to leave the door and as she did, the deputy came in behind her. The paperwork was in her bedroom.

"I'm only getting the paper Deputy, don't worry." Sammy was starting to feel the seriousness that had added to the already dramatic day.

* * *

With a smile curling her lips, Judith glanced around the little apartment. And to think she had been inconvenienced by having to stop here. Now she was glad she took the call.

When she had come into work today she had asked Sheriff Brackett if there were any updates on Michael Myers, if they'd found him. That they hadn't surprised her. The stupid, clumsy, fat brat she remembered would have gotten himself captured or killed already. She knew he was back in Haddonfield. She'd found a mask in her old room on Lampkin and who's else could it have been? She had to admit she was impressed, and pleased. It gave her time, opportunity, and purpose. She wanted to be the one who found him and she'd tell him, if the opportunity was right who she was. Then she hoped he'd try to attack her and she'd have an excuse to kill him.

But something unexpected had happened when she'd spoken with Brackett. He gave her a message: ' _Angel is looking for you.'_

Every hair on her arms and neck had stood and she felt a violent chill slide down her back. Angel.

Evidently she had repeated the word, tasting it as it left her tongue and Brackett asked her if she knew Laurie. With some quick thinking Judith had managed to get the girl's full name out of the Sheriff and that she was a good friend of his family. Telling him she knew the girl from a youth program she downplayed any interest she had in the message. Just the coincidence of little Angel sniffing her out at the same time Michael had managed to get free, it was almost too perfect.

Judith now eyed the revolver the woman she had come to serve the message to had left on the table. How did she fit into all this? It probably wouldn't matter in ten minutes.

A little kitchen was at the back of the open concept layout of the unit and Judith walked through until she came to the clean counter. A knife block held a variety of sharp options; boning, bread, cleaver and the one, funny she didn't know what it was called. The big, long, broad bladed one. A chef's knife? Taking a dish towel she pulled it out of the top slot and looked at its gleaming surface. Her face vividly reflected.

The rush filled her, the one that was almost impossible to deny and she gripped the walnut handle with intent. Then she lifted her eyes and they widened.

A distance off, a face looked back at her through the window. It looked melted and saggy with yawning, black holes for eyes set in the white skin. Short, light brown hair frizzed from his scalp. He stood there, across the walkway in a common grassy area for the complex, near a high hedge but he was staring at her. It was a mask, she knew that, but she knew what mask it was. She remembered it from years ago. Steve had bought it and worn it that halloween. He was such an idiot and she was glad he was dead. And she knew who wore it now.

But did Michael know who she was? Did he recognise her? From the filthy, khaki coveralls that he wore, she knew that he did. She had left them at the house early this morning when she had walked in on the couple in her room. It had their blood on it now too along with the truck driver's.

Her heart raced and she settled the knife back into the block just in time to hear the voice behind her say, "Deputy?"

Judith snapped her head around at the interruption but just as sharply turned back. But he was gone. Michael was gone.

"Deputy?" Loomis asked again from the front room, holding the papers and looking at her suspiciously.

Rathmore looked at her like she was a child asking for directions that she couldn't be bothered with. She should kill her now, for Michael. But the gun was within reach of the girl, it would be a risk to attack her now. Michael was outside anyway...

"Thank you very much Miss Loomis," The smile that came to her lips was slight, "Make sure you get in touch with the hospital."

And she went to the door, passing the doctor and letting herself out. Hurriedly she rounded the building and crossed to where the hedge was. As she expected, he was not there anymore. There were other apartment buildings adjoining and it was getting late enough, children were coming out on the sidewalks, dressed in costumes.

"Trick or treat!" Judith heard somewhere nearby.

Perfect.

"Michael." She said, not raising her voice but looking around the area. There were places he could have gone but she still spoke as if he were present, "Michael. I know where she is. If you want her you'll have to get there first."

Bending, she sat on her heels and brushed the indentations in the tired grass lovingly where he had stood.

She turned around and headed back for the squad car, certain he had heard her somehow. If not, it wouldn't be too much to guess, to hope, that he would follow her, somehow. Judith glanced back at the apartment she had just been in. She'd come back and finish this later.

* * *

"Be careful! There's a lot of weirdos that come out on halloween." Mason Strode called after his daughter.

Laurie grinned and waved, "I will! I'm probably the weirdest thing out there anyway."

Feeling much more settled than she had earlier, Laurie had finished her homework and tried to call Lynda a couple times. She must already be with Bob somewhere. Annie had already come over after her shift and borrowed some of her clothes for her date with Paul.

Now Laurie was heading over to the Wallace's to watch their little 9 year old Lindsay. She had sat for them before when Lindsay was 5 and so when Annie had told them that Laurie was subbing for her they were fine with the change.

Laurie had been offline, needing to chill out after everything she had been dealing with and so she hadn't logged onto her computer.

Now it was almost 5pm, the jack-o-lanterns were being lit and the kids began to roam the walks. Ninja Turtles, Jedi, Snow Queens and classic monsters and witches darted up to the porches of the neighborhood houses in their quest for candy.

At the Wallace's, Lindsay was dressed as an egyptian princess and she looked at Laurie with disappointment.

"How come you didn't dress up?" She asked Laurie.

Laurie hadn't dressed up for a few years but she didn't want Lindsay to think she was a halloween scrooge.

"I'm dressed as an old grandma! Look at my sweater and glasses." She smiled enthusiastically.

Looking her over again, Lindsay finally nodded, "Good costume. I haven't finished carving my boogieman pumpkin but it's getting late. I don't want the Barton's to run out of king sized Kit Kats!"

The childhood dilemma gained Laurie's sympathies although the reference to the 'boogeyman' made her flinch, "We'd better go then. We'll get the Kit Kats and then come back here and finish your pumpkin ok?"

Lindsay squealed happily, grabbed her hand and dragged her out the door.

* * *

The ability to move around freely was something Michael was still becoming used to. The light of day made him squint his eyes at the burn but the mask provided some shelter and he was becoming more used to finding the shadows. Curiosity nagged at him constantly to take in his childhood town. The movie theater, the hardware store, the elementary school he had gone to and his favorite fast food restaurant. They all called memories that had long ago been sleeping. But it wasn't what he was here for.

Boo.

How to find her was the question.

At his house he wanted to scare off whomever was in the van but he couldn't get distracted, he had to find Judith and so he slipped out of the window and went for the woods where he had left the bike. It's owner had dropped the key on his way into a gym and Michael needed a way to get around town. It had not taken him long to master the operation of it because Conner had a bike when he had first started working at Smith's Grove and would talk about the technicalities of it. Michael was also able to use the helmet to move around unnoticed.

His body felt heavy, the strain of the night, his getting here, enduring the memories that he had left in that house and hardly any rest he laid back on the bed of wet leaves, feeling the cold condensation soak through his thin t shirt and sweatpants. He woke up feeling the soft warmth of sunlight on his skin. A enthralling sensation until he rolled his head towards it and his sensitive eyes, even shut, burned at the stimulation. Then he heard the brief scream. On his feet immediately he ran back to his house.

The van was still there so he waited and watched.

Then, like a fiendish ghost he had seen her in the window upstairs. Judith. She was older, but she moved the same, haughty and cat-like.

Michael was glad he wouldn't have to track her down and he went hurried towards the house. Crawling up quickly all he found in her room was blood splattered about. His old mask was gone but a pair of coveralls lay on top of the reddened mattress which he picked up.

Then he looked on a wall that set back from what daylight came through the window. But he could see it easily, 'Sister'. Was she challenging him? Taunting him? Demonstrating what she could do...would do to Angel?

Taking his time to follow the slick trail of fluid as it went to the basement door, he paused. An old hesitancy fending him off from going down. Then he heard the van start out front and went to see Judith pulling out of the driveway. If he didn't want her to get away he'd have to chase her. As fast as he could he went back to the bike, the coveralls still in hand. He had to scour the neighborhood until he finally found the van in a vacant lot overgrown with brush. Judith was getting in a police cruiser and drove off. He let her go needing time to think for such processing came slowly for him after so long living in a isolation at the hospital. She wouldn't get far. She was a police officer, he had seen her uniform and he knew where the station was.

He still had the blood soaked coveralls. Judith had killed the two back at the house he had come to realize. Michael tried to figure out why. Why Judith would kill them. Because they were in their house with no right to be?

What surprised him was that it bothered him. Like when he would find the animals that had died so terribly. She had left them for him then too. The the raw smell made his stomach turn.

Back then he felt powerless to stop her but now he would and she would pay for everything. When she died he wanted her to know why so he put on the coveralls so she would know it wasn't just for him or for Angel. It was for everyone she had hurt. For that couple and for driving Mom to do the heinous thing she had done.

If it was him she was trying to put the blame on again he would accept it. He wouldn't deny it anymore like he had when they were young and their mother looked at him in shame and condemnation. He would be what everyone thought he was, a killer, and Judith would be first.

He'd watched the station for hours when the soft glow of a girl got out of the car.

Boo.

She went into the building and Michael could only watch. Judith wasn't there yet. He had not seen her come.

Suddenly Michael wondered what Angel had looked like when she had been 10, 15. She had said she didn't have a brother or a sister. What had her life been like all these years? This wasn't a new procession of thought, he had wondered this often over the years.

When she had come back out she had looked at him with slamming directness and he almost hoped she knew him, forgetting the mask he wore.

The masks. His second skin, he had forgotten Boo may not recognise him wearing one. The expression of cautious alert that took hold of her face however brought him back to reality. It was the look that everyone had given him at the hospital. Sometimes there was a forced confidence but he could see it in their eyes, the fear. Then he thought of Loomis. Once or twice he thought he'd seen something different. Ease and trust as she spoke to him in the empty visiting room. One person to another.

Where was she now? Again the hope that she was alive surprised him. Only Boo had he ever held any regard for for 15 years. To worry for another…

Judith came and he followed her as she patrolled slowly. At the apartment complex he watched from afar wondering if it was Boo's place.

Loomis.

She answered the door. She let Judith in.

Why this tightened his muscles and made his mouth dry he couldn't follow with his unexplored emotions. So he went to watch through the window. What if Judith killed Loomis like she had the two in her room?

He stepped out from behind the cover of the tall bushes, in full view. His breathing echoed in the confinement of the mask, damp and hot. Wanting Judith would see him and she did.

At the window he could see her holding the knife and he wondered if he would have to come through the glass at her. But the knife was resettled and Judith looked him in the eyes for the first time in 15 years. Nothing had been lost. The enmity, poison or the distance.

When she faltered, looking behind her he moved quickly to the side of the apartment where he could see what she would do. Watching her, she had lost interest in Loomis and was leaving her alone. She was coming for him. Someone had left some gardening tools out for trimming and maintaining the hedge and the lawns. In the narrow alley between two buildings Michael could just see Judith come to the corner of the hedge, her back to him and he reached for the flat headed shovel.

"Trick or Treat!" A young voice chirped nearby.

Maybe...maybe he would wait, until they were alone. Then she spoke and he heard as if he were right in front of her. She knew where Boo was and she was going to find her.

What would she tell her? The truth? That their mother had tried to smother Angel? Or would she tell her that Michael had done it. Wasn't that what he wanted? Now he wavered at the thought. It wouldn't matter. Because he would finally be rid of Judith before she could say anything to Boo.

* * *

Judith had taken her time at the Strode house. Wearing coveralls that were nearly identical to the ones Michael now had on, she had added some fresh blood stains to hers. She wasn't worried about police. She was the police. She knew what they would look for and what they would over look. Precautions would be taken to satisfy any ambitious prosecutor to try Michael Myers.

The woman lay on the couch, neck slashed and her husband half way into the room from the entryway, bleeding out onto the varnished hard wood floor. They had looked so surprised, so shocked before the tension in their eyelids relaxed and now they just looked tired.

But Angel was not here.

Adjusting the mask, Judith almost growled. She wanted Michael to see it before she finished what should have happened to him a long time ago.

Returning to the house on Lampkin, Judith had found the mask along with the trespassers. The stiffened face smelled with an alien reek she couldn't even determine what it was. It made her gag. How long had her little brother worn this? Just like that stupid clown mask he hid behind when he was a kid. He really was a psycho.

Now when would Angel come home? The clock chimed 5:45 and there was a knock on the door. Quickly Judith went out the backdoor and around the house in the dimming twilight. She knew it wasn't Angel because it was the girl's own home.

It was that woman. Loomis.

One more. One more for Michael to find. Like an extra magical gift at that pathetic birthday party for him, that no one came to but the dead Judith left behind. The door wasn't locked so Judith waited for the woman to get nosey enough to just walk in. They always got nosey and tried the door.

The hidden smile then faded. No, if she went in, she'd see the dead man from the doorway and run. Judith might be able to get to her before she made it to others. She came along the porch, the tall hydrangea plants and shrubs keeping her hidden from the unsuspecting woman at the door.

But she didn't go in and a gaggle of children turned to come up the sidewalk. Shrinking back into the bushes Judith frowned.

"Laurie, where are you?" Loomis could be heard to mumble in frustration. "Maybe at her friend's…"

Of course. Brackett's kid. If Judith hurried, she could find all three. She hated Lee Brackett and her hunger and impulse to end life was primed, wanting more. Michael being free would give her a pass for he would surely be blamed for all of the murders. It was what people expected of him.

To kill was like a famished monster lurking in a deep sea of rage for Judith. She knew it was down there and when it surfaced there was nothing she could do to stop it. And she had never wanted to.

But she knew if she were patient, there would be an opportunity and Michael had not suffered enough yet.

* * *

The streets were crawling with trick or treaters and Laurie was sweating despite the chill in the air. Lindsay Wallace seemed to have the neighborhood mapped out in the most efficient route to obtain the most candy. They had passed by Laurie's house, the lights on and she knew they were giving out sour patch kids. If Lindsay found out she would kill her! But Laurie didn't want them to know she was babysitting instead of Annie. Parents were gossipy had a way of talking and figuring things out, even when you were in college. So she told the little girl they had gotten root beer flavored taffy...nobody liked that and Lindsay cringed, hurrying on.

The last of the daylight was nothing but an echo of pale blue on the black outline of houses and fences. Some houses had decorations to break up the oncoming night like lit jack-o-lanterns or glowing eyes in their windows. The energy of the kids running around in their frenzy had Laurie having to stop or jump to the side to avoid collisions.

There was a crowd at a one house and Laurie waited for Lindsay to stand in line. It was probably toothbrushes or something not worth it.

Out on the lawn they had grave stones with silly engravings on them and a half dozen ghosts made of sheets hanging from a sprawling maple tree swaying in the wind. Glancing down at her phone there were no new messages and she slipped it back into her pocket. The crowd at the door was dwindling and Lindsay was just getting to the prized candy bowl when something drew Laurie's eye to the ghosts again. There was a man standing in the fluttering white folds of the sheets. Back a ways in the shadows, his white mask came in and out of view errily. It was the same man from the bus stop wasn't it? He still faced her directly, locking her into place where she stood.

Michael?

"Laurie!"

Annie's voice made her jump as the car pulled up next to her, the slight brunette hanging out the passenger window. Looking back quickly to where the man had been, Laurie saw nothing. Only the hanging ghosts.

"Hey Laurie! Did you hear me?" Annie persisted.

"Yeah, sorry Annie." Laurie turned to them again.

The preppy soccer player in the driver's seat waved at her with a wink and Annie shot him a glare of disapproval then said to Laurie, "Hey, Paul's brother is staying with him at his dorm and so we… it was getting a little crowded. When are you going back to the Wallace's?"

Shrugging, Laurie said, "Sounds like Lindsay is in it for the long haul, probably another hour at least? Why don't you go to your house? Isn't your dad out on patrol tonight?"

"Cause he's already suspicious of me! He's a friggin' cop and has ways of snooping out stuff! He's come home randomly twice and I've had to stuff Paul in the closet! We've totally gotta move out Laurie. Living with the our parent's is not working."

Laurie hesitated and Lindsay skipped up to her.

"The Barton's gave me three! One for you too. I told them you'd dressed like them for halloween, as an old person." the little girl said with a sucker hanging out of her mouth.

The two in the car started laughing.

"Thanks so much Lindsay." Laurie sighed, still wondering why she would think she had seen her brother at all. But how could she when he was chained and locked up in Smith's Grove?

"Key Laurie? Please?" begged Annie with her adorable pouty lips.

Laurie could only shake her head and give in, passing the house key to Annie.

"One hour Annie." stated Laurie firmly.

Nodding, Annie retracted back into the car and it took off.

"Come on, we can work the Pepperwood Hollow neighborhood too if we keep going!" Lindsay was off again and Laurie groaned. Not only was she the boring one, she was seeing things now.


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. All original characters and plot are the property of the author. No copyright infringement is intended.**

* * *

"Stop!" Annie ordered suddenly and sunk in her seat as Paul put his foot to the break. They had just come around the corner where the Wallace's house was just across the street from hers. A squad car was parked down the way.

"Now we look suspicious…" said Paul with a frown. "I'll just go into the side driveway."

As they moved by the patrol car Annie peeked at it. There was no one inside.

"That's not my dad's. Probably one of the Deputy's. I think we're good." She said in relief as they pulled into the Wallace's side port.

They hurried along the porch to the front door that Annie unlocked quickly, glancing around to see if anyone noticed them. Laurie had taped up a sign, 'Out trick or treating! Candy in the bowl on the bench. Be nice. Take one.' An arrow pointed to the side and a bowl sat empty. Probably cleaned out by the first group of little snots who came through.

Wasting no time, they were on the couch making out. They only had an hour after all.

Annie was a girl who loved to be loved. She had had a boyfriend since 3rd grade with little down time in between relationships. She liked to be held and kissed.

Paul may have had a similar background because he knew exactly what he was doing. Seasoned kisser and not shy but he also didn't hurry.

Every now and again, some kid who couldn't read would ring the doorbell which they ignored.

Paul lay on her when his full body stiffened, Annie opened her eyes to look at his face.

"What's the matter?" She asked breathlessly putting her mouth to his again with a smile.

He hardly responded, eyes looking through her, completely stunned.

Then he made a low, gurgling sound.

"Paul. Come on. We don't have time…" Annie knew he could be a tease, still kissing at his lips. That was when the blood began to ooze from his mouth onto hers.

For a moment her brain froze and she gagged. Paul's eyes were dulling over and his muscles relaxed as he leaned into her.

"P...Paul?!" She still couldn't fathom what was happening. Her boyfriend's limp body weighing down on her, pressing her into the couch.

Annie let out a half scream as she could just see a kitchen knife protruding from the back of Paul's neck. The hand that held it led to a tall figure standing behind the couch. In coveralls and an orange mask, the attacker stared down at her. With a sharp jerk, the looming figure removed the knife.

Another scream burst from Annie's chest as she began to wiggle and scramble to escape, pushing Paul's body off of her and rolling to the floor.

They had been in a family room and now Annie tried to get to her feet to run for the front door but she was blocked. The shape with the knife came at her, slitting her arm as she twirled about, then she felt the thin metal jab at her back.

"Help!" She yelled shrilly and a strong hand grabbed her elbow.

These strokes weren't meant to kill. The knife glided across her skin, stinging and burning. Some went deeper into her body but weren't aimed at vital organs. When allowed, Annie tried to get away, tears blurring her vision and terror confusing her directions. The knife slid across the back of a knee and she fell. Soon she was in such pain she could only crawl, feeling her warm blood dripping from the slices on her face.

When her arms gave out she fell to her side, able to see the attacker above her, watching her.

"Please…" Was all she could say as the knife was raised again, this time to end it.

Suddenly an arm hooked around the shape's neck, jerking it back. Annie felt faint and weak, too weak to see what was happening but she heard grunts and growls, scuffling and furniture being knocked over. But it faded into a foggy distance as she began to lose consciousness.

"Please don't...kill me…"

* * *

 

Michael heaved Judith backward, away from the brutalized girl on the floor. Confidence had him careless. There was only one of her and even though she was tall and toned, he was obviously bigger and stronger. He had fought off multiple orderlies his whole life, Judith would be no trouble.

When the blade slid into his leg, Michael was surprised. Still behind her, Michael's arm tightened around her neck and he caught his breath at the ripping pain that shot through him. He was surprised but received it with complete silence. With his free hand he grabbed at the knife but it was twisted away from him quickly and Judith made a desperate hacking jab at him again. This time he felt the bite along his side. He had to throw her before she went too deep. His effort took her off her feet and she hit the granite countertop hard, sprawling her mostly on top of its surface and knocking a freshly carved pumpkin to the ground. It hit with a hollow splitting sound in harmony to the ringing long blade that had slipped from Judith's hand. Her recovery was slow and Michael took his time closing the distance. They had waited years for this, he wanted it to last as long as possible. She groaned and was trying to right herself clumsily again when he reached out for her. Suddenly she spun around at him with deft reflexes, a small, saw nosed pumpkin carving knife poised in her hand. Only 4 inches long Michael found it almost comical and an unpracticed smile rove across his face for the first time in years as he was able to fully take her in. She was wearing his mask that he'd left at the house and another similar suit. Her hair was down and tousled wildly about, a little longer than his but still it was like looking in a mirror.

"Hello Michael." came the inhibited, muffled voice.

The burning in his leg he ignored and he stood loose and ready. Nothing came out of his mouth. All these years he had not spoken. One of the only things he could control and now, for the first time, he wanted to yell at her. Tell her what he hated her and that she was going to die. But he had said it all before hadn't he? To speak, he had forgotten how to even begin.

Judith suddenly lunged forward at him, arching the knife through the air.

"Come on little brother. Say something you pathetic nothing." She growled in thorned words.

He moved easily from the strike of the feeble blade and grabbed at her wrist, pulling her forward and past him. She fell into a side table, knocking the lamp off of it. Instantly she was back on her feet and spun around. Judith may not have been as strong as men Michael had tangled with, but she was fast and agile. She also purely hated him. Such a combination could make her far more dangerous than any of the orderlies who impersonal purpose was always to restrain him. Michael's big sister wanted his end.

"You're going to die Michael, I'm going to kill you, like you should have died a long time ago." Judith murmured lowly.

He remembered on Halloween when he had left the living room where Ronnie was watching TV to go eat candy in the kitchen. Judith had come in but he ignored her. A while after she had left he heard Angel crying and calling out. So he went to the stairs and climbed them. At the top his mother's door was closed and he went to open it but...then he was on the floor below. Still he could not remember how he had gotten there, how he had fallen.

Now he moved for her and she did not shy away, she flunged at him, the little knife plunged into his neck. Knocking her arm down he grabbed at her throat, squeezing. His other hand snatched at the little carving knife from the base of his neck near the back, dislodging it and it fell.

He could see her eyes through the holes of the mask. They weren't the light-catching grey like Angel and his. Judith had eyes that didn't look like their mothers either. They must have come from her father. A deep green with brown muddying them. They weren't frightened of him, they spat fury and hate. He accepted this after all of these years. He savored the stinging in his leg and neck and he drew from it to fuel him. Judith would fight back and this pleased him.

In his hold, Judith gulped and writhed, both of her hands now tearing at the wrist of the flesh clamp that tightened about her neck.

As tightly as he held her, her vitality was impressive. One of her hands darted to the zipper of her coveralls and desperately fumbled about the deputy uniform underneath.

Michael went to secure the feral hand. In the struggle something came loose, glimmering as it fell out when her hand reappeared with a small canister and she discharged a mist of pepper spray into his face.

The immediate searing in his eyes was enough for him to release her and he began to cough and grab at the latex face. This would have been when he expected her to take the advantage and attack him again but he only stumbled about for a few seconds, blinking and gasping for air.

A voice shouted behind him a few seconds later, "What in the...Annie!"

Eyes still burning but quickly recovering, Michael spun around to see Judith slipping through and shutting the sliding doors to the back yard. He ignored what other symptoms were still lingering from the spray that would normally incapacitate any other person and he started to the doors.

But a man rushed into the room where the blood soaked girl lay. He was dressed like a policeman of some sort. A uniform like Judith's.

"Annie!? Baby?!" The man was hovering over her almost frantic.

Still Michael stalked towards the door when the officer noticed him.

"Who the...stop!" the man was grabbing at the gun in his holster and Michael changed his direction with impressive speed. The gun was just coming up as Michael reached the man and knocked it out of his grasp.

The officer seemed surprised, his greying mustache framing his gaping mouth but he suddenly leaped on Michael, making him stagger backward.

"I'll kill you for what you've done to my daughter!" the man shouted at him as he flung his fists wildly and cursed him. Michael simply grabbed his uniform shirt, hefted him and threw him into the glass door, shattering it.

The man groaned, laying half inside and half outside, the glass had cut his face but he seemed more stunned than hurt.

Michael started towards him when a sharp click cracked the air and he paused.

"Michael."

It was her, Loomis. Her voice was drawing, distracting and cooling the circulating fury that drove him.

"Don't kill him." It was not a request, it was an order and Michael screwed his head around to look at her.

She held a handgun on him. Blonde hair pulled back from her flushed but fierce face she stood boldly.

Less than a dozen feet away from her, Michael turned and began to walk towards her. Sweat from the insult of the spray trickled down his face under the mask to his chin, channeling down the strands of his beard.

Loomis' composure seemed to slacken a little at his approach, her hands that held the gun dipping slightly then refixing upon him, "Don't make me shoot you."

But he continued to close in on her and instead of pulling the trigger she stepped backward until she met with a wall. Her hands now shivered a little as Michael stepped up to her, the muzzle of the revolver pushed into the flap of the mask at the base of his throat.

Loomis blinked up at him, even in the dark he could see her quivering chin and her eyes that filled with the reflection of a ghastly face. He could see the cuts and bruises Conner had given her. He halted his feet just in front of her waiting in morbid curiosity at her presence and daring her to finish. He was a monster in her eyes just like everyone else's' wasn't he?

Loomis continued to hold the gun to him and she managed to say breathily, "Come back with me to the hospital Michael. I know you didn't kill those guards. Don't do this."

The words crossed his assumption and he could only stare down at her, his augmented pupils searching for deception in hers.

"You…" Sammy started, the word followed by a pause as she swallowed tenderly, "You can change this Michael. You need to do what's best for Angel. I know you...love her."

His head had tilted forward, his neck pressing into the nose of the revolver. Then he slowly turned to look at the door, the Sheriff groaned and beginning to rouse.

Boo.

What was best for Angel?

He stepped away from Loomis, leaving her sagged against the wall.

"Michael! Stop!" She shouted at him as he bent over and picked up the long knife from the floor where Judith had dropped it.

Then he left.

* * *

 

Sammy couldn't move. Even the finger on the trigger resisted her half hearted decision to shot. But it was too late, Michael was already gone. She hadn't seen him run, he had just moved out of sight and disappeared.

Earlier, when she had seen the officer's car rolling down the road she had hobbled out, waving her arms. The man inside introduced himself as Sheriff Brackett and Sammy spilled her story about Laurie Strode and Michael Myers. She half expected him to blow her off like the deputy she had called. But he asked her if she had seen Laurie yet today and Sammy explained how she had gone to the house but there was no answer. Brackett thought she might have gone to see his daughter Annie who had been babysitting and so they drove a few blocks over.

A car in the driveway had him launch out of his door and he ran towards a house. Sammy got out of the passenger side and followed. A motionless young man on the floor by a couch had her and Sheriff Brackett run to check the body for any sign of life only to be disappointed. Brackett had jumped up and left the room, that was when she heard him yelling.

What has Michael done?

She couldn't believe it. Seeing it with her own eyes, she still couldn't. And why didn't she stop him? Sammy would rather relive the question than face the answer for she knew, in her professional opinion, that it was because of an emotional attachment she had for Michael Myers.

But Michael was gone now and she had to find him. He had to be going for Laurie. But to do what? She was sure he loved his sister, but that didn't guarantee he wouldn't do her harm. Now it was her responsibility to do what was best for Laurie, and the rest of the would-be victims.

The Sheriff was trying to lift himself, dazed and Sammy finally forced herself to move.

"Sheriff, let me help you…" She knelt down by him, her body felt drained from the confrontation.

"No!" he convulsed at her, "My daughter! Annie!"

Sammy hadn't seen the girl on the ground behind a turned over table; her chest still raised and fell. Sammy exhaled.

"I...I'm a resident doctor...I can help her while you call for an ambulance." She hurried over to the girl and began assessing her. "Hurry!"

"My radio isn't working." He tried to stand and cried out in pain, "I think I've sprained my ankle."

Standing up Sammy looked around for a phone but saw none. Landlines were not very common any more. Quickly she went to the room where the bled out man lay disturbingly and unnaturally on the floor. A pink rhinestoned cell phone caught her eye on the coffee table and she snatched it up, running back to Annie.

"That was him wasn't it. Myers?" grunted Sheriff Brackett who had calmed some.

A strange twinge of shame kept her from looking at him directly, "Yes."

Brackett called as Sammy worked, trying to tell if the knife wounds had penetrated serious blood vessels or organs.

On his daughter's phone, Sheriff Brackett ordered the ambulance then told his deputies to secure the area and be on the lookout for Myers.

"...You only warn him once...shoot if he doesn't surrender...shoot to kill…" he said with a dead tone, one that when the panic and denial had departed it was all that was left.

Forcing herself to stay calm and focused Sammy did all she could for her. She felt relief when she knew the girl would make it if she were attended to at a hospital soon.

Directing Brackett to apply pressure to the deeper cuts, she went to find a blanket to battle the shock. As she put it over Annie she couldn't help but feel responsible for everything that had happened and might happen. Somehow, she also knew that the police couldn't catch Michael.

That's when the star shaped badge caught her eye, half under the carpet near her knee. Sammy picked it up and held it out to Brackett.

"You dropped your badge."

The sight of it shook him visibly, "That's….that's Deputy Rathmore's! She must have been here. Myers was injured. She must have fought with that murdering psychopath! She was probably the only reason he didn't finish Annie..."

Sammy didn't want to hear anymore of the rant. Laurie was out there, that's who he was after now she was sure of it and she had set him on her. Why had she brought up her name? Would he have lingered longer, trained on her if she hadn't said anything? It would be all her fault if Laurie died, just like with Amanda Winters. She had had the chance to end it and she couldn't. Not the next time.

She would shoot him herself.

The distant sound of sirens wailed. The Sheriff was calling to her but she just told him to keep holding his daughter's wounds. Picking up the phone she tilted it in the light, she didn't have to scroll to see Laurie's number on the call log.

"Just a moment Sheriff." She said over her shoulder. Sammy had to warn Laurie.

"What? Wait!"

But Sammy was already to the door.

The sun had completely abandoned the cimmerian dark street. The trick-or-treaters were sparse, mostly the older kids more interested in tricks than treats.

A chill seized Sammy's back, locking her muscles momentarily and she was glad to have worn her cream trench coat instead of a hoodie. But although the temperature had dropped, the shiver came from more than cold.

She dialed the number and put the phone to her ear. On the fourth ring Laurie answered.

"Hey you guys are getting really fast at this." came the cheeky assumption, free of any greeting.

"Laurie? This is Samantha Loomis." Sammy had stopped out on the sidewalk looking up and down the road.

There was a pause and she could hear Laurie say something to someone in the background.

Then she said, "Miss Loomis? Why are you calling from Annie's phone?"

"Annie's been hurt…" there was no reason to hold that back from Laurie and the gasp strained the speaker in her ear with fuzzy static.

The two began to talk simultaneously.

"Her father's with her…." Sammy hurried to try to assure and calm her.

"What?! What happened?!" Laurie demanded.

"Your brother left the sanitarium…"

"Is Annie ok?!"

"Laurie he's out. He's here in Haddonfield."

"Did he hurt her!?"

"I think so. Please Laurie where are you?"

"How?! Why her!?"

"I don't know. But she'll be ok, the ambulance is on it's way. I think he may be trying to find you…"

"Dad...Mom…"

There was ragged breathing. The soft but worried voice of a child said, "Laurie? Are you ok?"

The voices were muffled after that. Sammy thought she could hear a name, 'Bartons'.

"Laurie! Laurie!" Sammy called into the phone as she stepped off the curb to start back to the Strode house, "Don't go home!

The wind raked its ghostly fingers through the leaves making them scrape and skid. The streets were suddenly empty of any soul, as if they all had been swallowed by the shadows. Three more blocks and Sammy felt so tired, her leg hurt and her head ached.

When she rounded to corner she saw the darkened home she had knocked at earlier. There was only a hushed glow from within but no sign of movement. Sammy wondered if maybe Laurie had decided to go back to the house where Annie was. But she had to be sure and kept going.

Just as she got to the edge of the yard she saw her. Run through the dark from the opposite direction and up the porch stairs.

"Laurie!" Sammy called but it was as if the girl hadn't heard her and she threw herself at the door and opened it. A light snapped on followed by a dire scream.

Forcing a run, Sammy stumbled up the stairs and into the house. Still shrieking, Laurie was holding onto the banister of the stairs in hysterics at the bloody canvass before her. An older man on the floor and woman near a couch in the living room. The ash blonde oak floor showed bootprints that meandered about the scene. This had happened before. Before Annie.

Sammy hurried over to Laurie, putting her arms around her, trying to turn her from the horrible sight.

"Laurie! Shhh!" Sammy had to grab her face for the girl turned to look back again, still wailing, "Stop it! We have to go."

The movement at the back of the house caught Sammy's attention and she looked up to see Michael step out from the hallway. Still holding the smudged knife in one fist he paused there, the shape of a nightmare.

Still wild with shock and horror, Laurie finally noticed the paling of Sammy's face and twisted around to see her brother. Michael took a step towards them and Laurie let out fear inflamed scream.

Sammy pushed the girl behind her. Michael hadn't killed her when he could have before but now he brandished the knife.

The flimsy certainty began to fail at his imminent approach. His head tilted to the side disturbingly as if he were trying to see around her.

It must have been too much for Laurie for she bolted for the open door back outside. Sammy found her own feet following, flight instincts taking control and dictating only one desire: escape. Her hand dug into her pocket for the cell phone to call for help.

Laurie was nearly to the street when a lit up police car skidded to a stop just in front of her, making her flail to stop from being hit.

Rathmore jumped out, drawing her side arm and leveling it in Sammy's direction. The gun punctured the air as it discharged and Sammy stumbled waiting for the angry bullet to tear through her, the phone fell from her hand. But she felt nothing and she looked behind her to see Michael on the porch, walking calmly towards them. Two more shots sounded and Michael's shoulder snapped back, hit by an invisible force.

"Get in the car!" Shouted Rathmore, still set on Michael.

Laurie had ducked by the car during the gunfire but now clawed at the handle for the back door.

Sammy looked back to see Michael stepping forward again, a wet spot darkening his coveralls at his shoulder but somehow his walk ate up ground.

"Doctor Loomis!" the deputy barked the inaccurate title but Sammy still complied, shaking the silly sense of worry that Myers was injured.

Careening for the car, another shot whizzed past her ear but she didn't look to see if it found it's target. Getting in the front and slamming the door Sammy peered through the window to see the mask's emotionless face looking in at her less than a foot away. How fast he would have had to move to have covered the distance…

The scream that sounded wasn't Sammy's but Laurie's and Michael shifted from Sammy's window to the back seat.

Rathmore had just slid into her seat and was closing the door when the glass of the back window shattered from the impact of the hilt of the knife the lunatic pounded into it.

"Go!" Sammy shouted at the deputy who stomped on her gas pedal and the car leaped forward.

Michael had stretched his long arm through the broken window and his fingers were just touching Laurie's leg that she had pulled up to her chest at the other end of the seat. The squad car jerked away from him and after a moment of his hanging on he was left behind. Blood smeared the jagged edges of what was left of the window glass.

Laurie sobbed and shook, "Why!? Why is he doing this!? He's my brother!"

The two women in the front were also gasping and fighting for composure but Deputy Rathmore twisted around to look at Laurie, the car swerving and Sammy had to grab the wheel.

"Deputy!" gasped Sammy.

"Your...Brother?!" the police woman stuttered. "Michael Myers?!"

But Laurie was incoherent in her terror and most likely at the loss of her parents in such a gruesome way.

So she answered as calmly as she could when Rathmore had turned forward again, driving but glancing in the rearview mirror at both the dark road behind them and the girl in the back seat.

"Yes Deputy, Laurie is Myer's little sister Angel."

The woman looked completely stunned and pushed her eyes closed, shaking her head. There were deep grazes and cuts on her face and a red lump was knolling her left cheek.

Worriedly Sammy asked, "Are you alright? I think you...hit him...do you need me to drive?"

The woman shook her head, her bland face reconstructed impassively as it had been when they had met earlier in the day.

"No, I'm fine. I got him at least twice. But I don't know if it stopped him. I don't think so." She looked in the rearview mirror at Laurie, "You're Angel Myers?"

Laurie's flushed face was wet with tears and her hair wild, "No! I'm Laurie Strode! I don't want to be Angel Myers!"

"Ok Laurie! Alright!" Sammy tried to calm her, then looked back to Rathmore, "Where are we going?"

"I...I'll take you to the station." She grabbed for her radio, "There are other officers there, I think the Sheriff is at the hospital but we're spread thin tonight."

She engaged the receiver, "Suspect spotted at 1022 E Bay View Drive. Myer's has been shot at least two times. I have two victims in my vehicle. Dr. Loomis and Angel...Laurie Strode…"

About to correct her on the unearned title, Sammy was interrupted by Laurie who grabbed the cage mesh of the squad car from the back seat.

"My parents! He...he killed them!"

Sammy could only try to comfort her by putting putting her own hand to the sobbing girl's protruding fingertips.

Rathmore took a breath and radioed again, "Second possible homicide scene at Strode residence where suspect was spotted."

They drove in a weary break of silence for a moment. Even Laurie had gone eerily quiet besides the involuntary gasps that waked her weeping. Finally Rathmore told Sammy she would like to question her alone on the 'details' of the patient's escape so it wouldn't upset Laurie. Nodding, Sammy found herself looking behind in the side mirror. Wondering where he was. Feeling cowardly and responsible for whatever he would do while she fled in the opposite direction. She should be tracking him down before he...acted again.

They pulled into the garage access to the station surrounded by a high chain-linked fence and stopped in a large carport.

With hurried steps they left the car and went for the safety of the building. This had to be the safest place in town Sammy assumed. But somehow this didn't completely settle the heightened alarm that gripped her. The door to the black outside couldn't close fast enough and the sallow, yellow painted walls reminded her of the sanitorium halls for some reason.

When another deputy turned a corner just ahead of them Laurie let out a startled yelp, jumping back. Sammy had caught her own breath.

The two deputies began to talk as if Sammy and Laurie were not there. Sheriff Brackett was leaving the hospital and coordinating the preservation of the crime scenes but he wanted every last spare officer to find Myers. That was the top priority. The modest sheriff's force had less than twenty available deputies and they were at the festival, some at the Wallaces and some now being dispatched to the Strodes. The rest, less than a dozen were patrolling the neighborhood where 'the suspect' was last seen.

The surrounding county law enforcement had been notified of Myer's appearance but it was Halloween and with the news coverage of the dangerous asylum patient's breakout, there were people calling in from the whole state claiming to have seen him. Sammy told them she was certain that this was the 'legitimate' Michael but the deputies still frowned. There would be slow response and little help from anyone else for a while.

Settled in the little breakroom, Rathmore went to talk to the remaining officers who had not gone out on patrol. There would be just three of them manning the station. Sammy had gotten a cup of water and blanket for Laurie and sat next to her with her arm about her back. What could she say? Words of assurance or comfort felt premature and bizarre. She was going to be a psychiatrist, shouldn't she know what to do?

"It's my fault." Laurie stated softly, "I went to see him and this happened."

Instantly Sammy shook her head, "No Laurie...there were failures elsewhere that may be blamed. He should have never been able to leave Smith's Grove. You've done nothing wrong."

The lame reply tasted bland to Sammy. Wasn't some of this her fault? Conner connected her to Michael, the keys were hers, she hadn't shot him when she could have. It all began to overwhelm her when one of the deputies came to the doorway and said, "We'll post one of us at the front and one in the back. You want to stay here with them Judith?" The name was vivid.

That's when Laurie's head whipped around and she shot to her feet.

"Judith?" she asked...no demanded.

The realization came to Sammy instantly. Judith. Rathmore was Judith. The woman's sensitive reaction to Laurie's true identity had jolted her and this was why. Rathmore had to know MIchael was her brother also didn't she? And now she had come across her forfeited sister.

"Just a second Doyle." Waving the other officer away, Judith calmly turned and faced Laurie.

Letting the blanket fall from her shoulders, Laurie's face twisted, "He is  _our_  brother."

The deputy's smooth face flinched slightly, "No, he never was my brother. He was always a mistake."

It was a cold thing to say but Sammy knew this must be a struggle for both sisters. Perhaps they would be able to be stronger together, now that they had found one another.

Judith made no other effort but Laurie took a few steps towards her before noticing the lack of reciprocal sentiment or even curiosity. It might not be the time for a reunion and Sammy thought of what Judith must have lived through and continued to relive for the past 15 years. To be calloused and guarded would be a perfectly normal coping mechanism.

For all Laurie had been through tonight, that she was suddenly so focused and collected kept Sammy observing curiously.

"What about me Judith? Did you ever...think about what happened to me?" There was no spite in the question from the youngest Myers sibling.

The tilt of Judith's head was over emphasized and unnatural. She seemed to study Laurie with a peculiar sort of scrutiny. But she did reply.

"I separated myself from everything I ever suffered and hated in that house Miss Strode. I don't want to be a part of the Myers family, I never did. You're starting to feel the same I think." She started to turn and go for the door but Sammy had to ask a final question.

"Why do you still live in Haddonfield Deputy?"

The woman didn't turn around but paused long enough for a shrug of her shoulders and to say, "Fate I suppose."

Outside the door Doyle could be heard, "What was that about?"

"Nevermind." Said Judith, "I'll watch the front and you stay here. Is Hill out back?"

Laurie's face, swollen from crying, hardened. Her eyes clouded darker and her shoulders set aggressively. Somehow it reminded Sammy of Michael and she quickly stood up and put a hand to the girl's arm.

"Laurie, listen. You have both been through a lot. Please. Let's make it through tonight." She reasoned.

The estranged siblings, every one of them, showed traits of hostile, anger disorders. Now even little Angel Myers.

It took a moment to dispel, but Laurie finally softened and sank weakly back down into her chair and curled forward miserably.

A moment later Deputy Doyle came back in. Sammy remembered the man brushing her off rudely earlier when she had tried to warn them about Michael and now scowled at him despite herself.

With a bit of excess about his belt line, the man was hardly an athlete and had some skin rolls above his ears and high-buttoned shirt collar.

With sudden surprising sympathy, Doyle came over to them and stood near Laurie.

"I'm sorry Laurie. You're safe now though. They'll get him, I promise." he tried.

It would never 'fix' what had happened and may have been better if he had said nothing but Laurie barely nodded.

Maybe there was hope for one in this family.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. All original characters and plot are the property of the author. No copyright infringement is intended.

Slithering minutes went by. The buzzed communications of the officers would sound every so often in cryptic numeric code or scattered word. Once they heard Brackett's voice announce the expansion of the search perimeter, disclosing that the efforts to catch the 'boogeyman' had failed thus far.

"Rath, Doyle, I think I just saw somethin' back here." The honest unsteadiness in the radioed voice brought the heads up of the three still in the break room. Throwing a look of concern at the two women, Doyle turned his back and walked towards the hallway door as he replied.

"Need back up?"

There was a hesitation then a sheepish reply, "No, I'm good."

A quick report from Judith related that the front was quiet.

Still, Hill's unsettling message had singed the edges of their nerves and they waited anxiously. Another couple of transmissions from other officers filled the rest until there was a short crackle of someone engaging their radio but they did not speak. Doyle waited a moment to see if a followup would come but none did and he called for a report in of those at the station.

Rathmore responded but there was nothing from Deputy Hill. Rathmore bravely said she would check it out and turned down Doyle's offer to also investigate. She told him to stay with the women.

At this point Sammy could sense the apprehension although she resisted the pressing panic. Something was wrong. Laurie also had quieted, her eyes stared out the doorway, transfixed in expectancy.

"Deputy Doyle…" Sammy started to inquire what might be happening. The man had his hand on the black leather holster at his hip next to a long and heavy looking flashlight. It reminded Sammy she also had her gun still with her, in her coat pocket.

The lights flickered. Dimming then restoring like lightning without thunder. All three jumped and gasped but Sammy thought she heard something; a distant voice?

But the lights finally blinked out and the room was left in blackness.

"Samantha!" croaked Laurie grabbing her with panicked fingers.

Sammy reached back for her, her heart had jump-started and she couldn't help her own gulps of hysteria that pumped her chest.

A beam of light suddenly blazed from nearby, "It's alright!"

Doyle's voice was stringent and the light darted unsteadily for a few seconds before locking relatively firm on the hallway door.

"Rathmore." Doyle's voice said into the radio, "What's going on?"

The reply came unexpectedly quick, "I'm here in the garage looking for Hill, he's not at his post. But the lights shut off! Is the power down?"

To hear the solid tone of her voice actually helped Sammy calm some and she managed to give Laurie a comforting squeeze.

"Must be. I don't know how." Doyle stuttered.

"Lights are on across the street and at the traffic light, must just be here at the station. I'll keep looking for Bret, you check the breaker box." suggested Judith.

"10-4." murmured Doyle. His voice then was turned to them, "You two stay here, I'll be right back."

"No!" protested Laurie.

"I'm not going far, just down the hall. I'll be about 3 minutes ok?"

Sammy was of the same mind as Laurie, "Let us go with you."

There was a brief pause but Doyle finally said, "No you stay here. I'll be back."

The illumination of security left with the light as the two women watched the officer go out the door.

"It's him. It's Michael." said Laurie simply.

Sammy couldn't refute it, but she kept her dreaded assumptions locked inside like her most recent breath. All they could do was listen. The shuffling footsteps of Doyle muted as they went and there was only quiet now. The clamping of Laurie's hands on her arms were forgotten and Sammy realized she was doing the same to the girl. She must try to get a hold of herself. Deputy Rathmore was still out there, they would be alright.

Another pulsation of light made the girls jump but it didn't sustain itself. The end result was again dark. Laurie and Sammy were both startled and cried out shortly. Sammy choked her own voice off as quickly as she could for she thought she heard something from outside the break room.

Shushing Laurie shortly, Sammy put a hand to her mouth. There was nothing.

The door was the only way out of the room but a couple of windows shuttered in old aluminum blinds. To wait or call out for the deputies?

Taking a deep breath Sammy forced herself up from the chair. Her hurt leg complaining anew.

"Samantha…" whimpered Laurie.

"Come on." Was all Sammy said lowly. She took Laurie by one hand and had her other in her pocket, gripping the revolver.

In the seamless dark, Sammy tried to remember what obstacles were where. She only kicked another chair once and ran into the corner of what she thought was a shelf then felt along the wall until the clink of the blinds gave way under her searching hand. Moving them gave her crack of light as she'd hoped. Only the anemic glowing of a streetlight far down the road managed to reach them. It did little to even discern Laurie's frightened features.

Letting go of the girl, Sammy began to run her fingers along the window. The lock was at the right side and Sammy tried to tug at it. It must not have been used in years for it didn't even budge. If they had to escape, from him, Sammy would have hoped they could have quietly slipped out here and fled. But the glass was reinforced, just like at the hospital. They couldn't even shatter it if they had to.

Maybe it was the stress or exhaustion but Sammy suddenly felt calm and looked back to the door. Michael wasn't here. They had left him across town. He was probably captured or shot down by the rest of the department by now. There would be no way he could know where they had gone nor gotten here in such a short time. The deputies were fine and would return.

"It's ok Laurie. Michael...he couldn't have...it's impossible."

Then there was another glow and buzz that came from Laurie's hip pocket. Her phone! The girl grabbed for it. It was a text from a schoolmate who was wondering if she had gone to the festival because they hadn't seen her.

Sammy had dropped Annie's phone on the Strode's front lawn in her flight from Myers.

They had light! And better, they could call someone! Their thinking must have been parallel because Sammy started to speak as Laurie unlocked the screen and started to dial 911. Somewhere in the building a phone rang.

It rang again and again pathetically.

Again they both looked to each other and knew there would be no help there.

Sammy knew nobody but a couple of the nurses, her neighbors and...Conner. None which she had their number memorized. Besides Laurie's parents, Laurie visually stumbled at who she could call. Time was passing and Sammy began to feel like their options were dwindling as they sat still, trapped.

She could see Laurie settled on a number titled 'Wallace" and she put the phone to her ear. It only rang.

Sammy grabbed the girl's wrist. They couldn't stay.

"Where…" Laurie started but Sammy shushed her again and they began to edge towards the door. Gun in hand Sammy stopped to listen at the doorway. Nothing.

She wanted to call out but couldn't decide if that was wise to beacon herself.

"Hello?" Laurie called for her.

Again Sammy put her hand to the girl's mouth. She took the phone from Laurie's hand and pressed the screen against her stomach, letting her eyes adjust to the dark again. It was even worse in the hallway but there were two directions, both ended in a brighter glow. One way was the back where they had come in from the garage. That was the way Doyle had gone. The other must be the front lobby.

Stepping out Sammy turned towards the back, all the officers were supposedly that direction. With Laurie in tow, Sammy started to walk cautiously. Not three steps were taken when a large shape eclipsed the dull light at end of the hall. It was too dark to tell it was more than a large person who held no flashlight but they held something else. Something they were dragging. A body by its leg?

It was wrong. Sammy was sure as she stood there that that was not one of the deputies.

Turning around as quietly as possible she started to push Laurie the other way. Her own lungs wanting to burble in panic.

Laurie didn't ask or fight she took a soft breath and followed Sammy blindly the other direction. Towards the front.

The large, floor to ceiling windows spanned the front of the building and the two women hurried towards the doors, tripping and bumping into desks and other shrouded objects as they went. A large soda machine sat pushed up against the glass sending a rectangle of shadow into the room.

Knocking over a fake tree in a wicker pot, Sammy grabbed at the handle that shifted and held. Locked. The parking lot in front was lit by two orange lights that almost mocked them as they both began to pull and rattle the doors futilely.

Sammy wanted to believe the person she saw was a deputy but the way they moved and did not call out, she couldn't shake the gut feeling of a predatorial presence. Now she looked in the dark direction of the hallway, waiting for the shadow to come for them. Laurie had her phone out again and had dialed someone else. Taking her arm, Sammy motioned for her to hide next to the dark soda machine out of the light.

Sammy's sweat slick hand brought up the gun to point and she sidled along the wall, away from the window so she wouldn't be outlined. A lone car came down the road outside, sending moving light along the wall as it passed. Fighting the impulse to run and pound on the glass to try to draw the driver's attention Sammy waited, turning her eyes back to the room. It seemed even more obscure than before and she strained to catch any hint of movement.

Then there was a shifting sound before the window exploded at Laurie's back. Glass burst sending invisible shards into the room and Laurie shreeked.

The large frame of Myers materialized at the centre of the chaos, hunched slightly and turned with the battering ram of his shoulder leading him through the window. The point of the kitchen knife gleamed in his hand. Laurie had only time to put up her hands to shield her face before he bent over immediately for her, taking her by the shirt and tossing her sloppily further into the room.

Swinging the nose of her gun around Sammy bit her lip before letting another, pathetic plea for him to stop formed there. He wouldn't and it left her with only one last option. But before she could squeeze the trigger she realized the large soda machine was tipping. All happening in a breath, it began to fall and for once Michael did not move fast enough to escape completely. It took him down, coming to rest on his lower back, pinning him. But the 700 lbs machine did not phase him and he began to strain extract himself.

Judith appeared from nowhere next to him, a large, baton-like object in her hand and she swung it at her brother's shoulders and head. But the trapped man flung a lofty arm out, grabbing at it. His fingers seemed to slip on its handle until he just knocked it from her grip and it skidded away across the floor directly at Sammy. He then grabbed at Judith's leg, ripping it out from under her and she tumbled down. Just as quickly she kicked out her other leg, catching Michael on the side of the masked face and hinging it sideways. Still pinned at the thigh, he sent out his other hand to secure the assaulting boot.

When the object spun into Sammy's feet she pulled the trigger out of raw reflex. The bullet went wildly into the ceiling but it made Judith hesitate and Michael jerked her towards him and at the same time one of his legs worked its way out from under the weight of the machine. The emotionless face of the white latex monster focused only on Judith, reeling her flailing body in until he had her by the throat.

Flashbacks of Amanda Winters struggling behind the table burst into Sammy's head and she bent to scoop up the baton. If she tried another shot she may hit Judith she reasoned as she stuffed the gun in her jacket and started to run towards the brawl.

Diving for Michael's back she yelled, "No! Let her go!"

Wrapping one arm around his neck and she started to pound at his arm with the heavy club.

The smell of the fake, plastic hair and skin of the mask made her nearly gag. Sweat from where his neck was exposed between the rubber and the dirty coverall collar smeared on her cheek as she clung on to him.

But he did not mind her, he continued to improve his quelch of Judith who clawed at him and hissed cursings.

Suddenly another shattering interrupted the struggle. Laurie smashed a glass pumpkin full of candy over Michael's head and somehow it was enough to release Judith who rolled away from him. Sammy let go also, throwing herself backward. Michael seemed genuinely stunned, his head bowed and bobbling and a hand reached to his crown.

"Come on!" Rathmore blared hoarsely and scrambled to her feet.

But Sammy was too stunned to hear. In the dim light from the parking lot she stared at the baton in her hand. It wasn't a baton, it was a flashlight and it was covered in blood. In the light she could see the name impressed in it: Thomas Doyle.

Then Laurie was at her side, pulling and pleading for her to get up. The flashlight fell from her grip as she forced herself to her feet and they followed Judith back into the dark backways of the station.

"He'll not stay trapped for long!" Judith said as she helped guide them in the darkness, "Keep walking. This is the hallway!"

Sammy took the lead but at the end of the hall she turned right and not left. Before Judith could correct her Sammy tripped on something and fell.

"Samantha? Where are you?" called Laurie.

A low light came on from Laurie's mobile phone's screen and Sammy found herself lying atop the unmoving body of Deputy Doyle. She only knew this from the nametag on his chest for his crushed face was covered in blood.

A nauseous gasp was all Sammy could manage as she got to her feet with Laurie and Judith's help. She wanted to wait, to check him even though she had felt no lift in his chest but Judith took her by the arm firmly.

"He's dead! We will be too if we don't get moving!" she said blatantly.

They hurried the other way, Sammy looked down the hall towards the front and as they passed she thought she saw Michael come into view at the opposite end.

"Come on!" Judith pushed at her back.

They burst from the back door and ran for the squad car. Judith ran to the driver's seat and started turning on the car.

The stark beams of the headlights revealed another gruesome scene. An arm jutted out of the mouth of a city wood chipper and a stream of blood oozed from it like red drool. Laurie screamed.

"Get in!" ordered the Deputy who leaned over to drag Laurie into the passenger seat by the elbow.

Before the doors had closed completely, the squad car peeled backwards, tires squealing as it was turned about. Sammy twisted around in the back seat, searching the dark they'd left behind them. Where was he? He was coming, she knew that. Somehow he would stalk them again.

But even in the drunken fear that hazed her thoughts Sammy couldn't help but feel like something did not make sense. Michael had had Laurie. When he had blown through the window he could have stabbed her then but he threw her. And why had Judith not shot him while he was pinned? Also Doyle's flashlight ate at her for reasons she had not fully developed yet. Michael could have been toying with Laurie or maybe Judith.

"Where are we going?" asked Laurie who looked as though she was barely holding together.

"To...to the house on Lampkin." Judith verbally stumbled as she felt at her dashboard. "Last I heard that's where Brackett was sending the rest of the force. They thought he would go there. The radio isn't working in here! He...broke my body radio while I was fighting with him! Myers must have taken this one out too!"

The horrible things Sammy had seen tonight played in her head like a morbid and looping slideshow. She knew this would never be forgotten for her. But listening to Judith her intuition felt contradicted. Michael was smart and resourceful, but somehow she felt it out of his character to tamper with the radios unless it happened out of accident like Brackett's. That was conniving and devious. It would be more something Conner would do. Michael's rage was an honest and spontaneous one. It was basic and primal like an animal with little more imagination than perhaps the thrill of stalking and pouncing. A single notion kept vying for attention. She kept going over his entrance through the police station window. Was he attacking his sister or was he moving her out of the way of the falling machine? It hadn't fallen on its own...had it?

Irritated at her relentless evaluations Sammy pressed her eyes shut and put her forehead to the cold glass of the car window. She wished the night was over, or moreso, that it had never happened in the first place.

One thing for sure, they had been safe while they drove before. Michael could not sneak up on them moving. She let her tired muscles lax a little. The moon outside was nearly full and cast a soft brilliance on the tragic night.

They were on a road that traversed rural fields and warehouses. There were no other cars and Sammy wondered if the world hadn't taken cover from the deadly threat that roamed the streets tonight.

A low hum was barely audible at first then quickly became louder. There was no light but a shadow blew by them and was only lit for a moment by the squad car's headlights.

"What was that?!" Laurie asked in alarm.

Judith was set forward in her seat and now gripping the wheel, "A bike I think!"

"It was Michael!" Laurie said what infused Sammy's thoughts also.

"It couldn't be!" Judith snapped back, "Does he know how to ride a motorcycle?!"

Sammy saw the deputy's eyes look back at her in genuine curiosity in the rearview mirror.

"N...No. Of course not." The fact did not convince Sammy either even as she said it.

"It's Michael!" Laurie repeated again.

"Whoever it was, I'm going almost 50mph and they had to be going almost triple that! I'd throw them in jail any other day!" Growled Rathmore.

They continued in renewed, silent tension for a few minutes until Rathmore murmured, "He always did love to ride that dumb old black Husky."

As they came to the older streets of the declining neighborhood, most of the houses were dark with few porch lights on. It wasn't late, not past 10 pm. A few fading jack-o-lanterns watched them pass. Some pumpkins had been broken onto the street.

Rathmore said Sheriff Brackett and four other deputies were supposed to be here just around the corner at number 45.

Yet the roads showed no flash of squad car lights. Maybe they didn't want to 'scare' Myers away.

Sammy had leaned in between the sisters from the backseat with no seatbelt on about to ask where the other officers could be when just a block down, a figure stepped from the shadows of two parked cars on the side of the street. The white, limp face with empty pits for eyes stared at them atop the tall figure. His suit had stains in it's grim-discolored fabric and the thin triangular knife flashed its steel fang at them.

Immediately Sammy and Laurie pointed and screamed in fear but Judith narrowed her eyes and stepped on the gas pedal. The car leaped forward, throwing Sammy back into the hard plastic seat. Seconds later she felt the impact of the hit, the sound of a heavy weight collide with the hood and windshield then the short stop which sent her flying forward again into the separation cage that split the car's driver from the detained.

Her head throbbed and a high pitched hum buzzed in her ears as Sammy tried to move. She had forgotten where she was and what had happened for a moment. Trading awareness for only pain.

"Samantha! Miss Loomis?" said an airy voice from somewhere above. The touch of a hand to her face suddenly collected her consciousness like a magnet and Sammy forced her eyes open.

Still dark. The night stalked them too and Sammy felt it would never be daylight again. The person above her, barely discernable as Laurie mostly from her voice, was leaning over her in the back of the car.

"She's alive Judith!" Laurie pulled out and the larger form of deputy Rathmore came over her.

"Get up Doctor. Come now!" A vice-like hand took hold of Sammy's shoulder and pulled her.

Sammy could feel a warm, sticky trickle running down her face from somewhere on her forehead. Her body was slow to respond and she was dragged out into the cold October air. Her hurt leg did not want to hold her any longer and she had to hop on the other as she got out and leaned against the squad car. It's windshield was obliterated and the front end was crumpled into the steaming engine.

"My phone is smashed." Laurie said hollowly.

She must had hit the dashboard Sammy noticed for her nose was beginning to bleed. It was difficult to see in the the low moonlight and differed remaining headlight but Sammy told her it was broken. The girl wadded up her bulky sweater sleeve to mop at it. Deputy Rathmore had disappeared and was now walking back towards them in the beam of the police car's one eye, looking satisfied.

Swallowing, Sammy asked, "You...hit him?"

"Yes." She nodded.

Hobbling a bit into the street Sammy searched for him. For Michael. Even with the squeal of tires the crash of body impacting a metal car, not even one light had turned on nor a person peer from a window in any house. It was impossible.

At first she did not see anything until she looked a distance down the road. Then, in front of an old forgotten car that rested without tires or rims on wooden blocks and cement pieces, Sammy saw an arm. The rest was hidden behind the old wreck.

She started to limp towards it but Judith caught her by the elbow, "He's dead Loomis. He flew over 30 feet!"

"You can't kill the boogeyman…" Laurie said, staring blankly at the ground.

Pulling away from Rathmore's hold Sammy said firmly, "I'll check."

The deputy looked annoyed, "Don't bother! Let's get Miss Strode to the others. You both need to get to the hospital and my ride is totaled. We'll take care of Myers' body."

"I want to be sure." Sammy insisted and started forward again.

"Samantha...wait!" Laurie called to her.

Turning, Sammy tried to smile at her. They all looked ruined. Hair astray, clothes torn and disheveled. All were injured and bleeding, although Judith had fared the best.

Wiping at the hair that fell in her own eyes Sammy smiled to the girl, "Go where you're safe Laurie. I'll be right behind you."

Sammy was horrified. Not just shaking from the crash and all that had happened so far. Rathmore had killed Michael Myers. Her own brother. Yes it was in self defence. He was trying to kill them as he had killed Laurie's parents and others. Her mind caught on that. It was like trying to accept visual, clear truths that somehow, something inside of her did not believe. Denial and inappropriate attachment, that's what it was. She...Samantha Loomis cared for this monster. Maybe she needed to see him gone to get past it.

The abandoned Myers' house was just a half a block down a side street. Judith led Laurie in that direction.

Her hand felt in her coat pocket for the gun that was still there.

As Sammy came around the broken down car, the unmoving arm extended to a shoulder and then the body of the large man. The headlight beam was also blocked somewhat by the old car leaving slices of light to fall across the scene. The other arm was tucked under Michael who was on his stomach. One leg looked pulled up, the other straight. The coveralls had been thrashed, large holes in the arms and back exposed pale skin and the clothes he had worn at Smith's Grove underneath. One trouser leg had been ripped from the hem to his knee. There was not any visible broken appendages but some lacerations that had minimal hemorrhaging.

Sammy had expected to see a mangled, pulverized corpse that would be nearly unrecognisable. But as she came closer, the mask was still there although twisted and nearly half off. His head turned to the side, Sammy could see his neck up to the ear in the slitted opening of the mask. Part of his cheek and most of his jaw also could be seen, the scruff of his dark blond beard extruding.

Perhaps she should have been more hesitant but she pushed her limp as fast as she could until she stood over him. He was so still but then when wasn't that a prominent trait for Michael? She struggled to lower herself until she knelt next to him. Tangled strands of pale hair tuffed out of small tears in the mask, mixing with the matted, shabby brown fake hair.

With a trembling hand, Sammy reached for his neck and let her fingertips touch the cool, clammy skin searching for the beat of life but she didn't feel anything. Nor did she make any move to take off the false face from his head. It felt disrespectful and insulting to him, especially in death.

"Sorry Michael. I couldn't help you. Maybe you can rest now." She whispered, a ball began and lodged in her throat.

She had not taken her fingers from him and they now lightly moved up to his his cheek. It still felt warm.

"We'll watch over Angel for you." She added sorrowfully.

Sammy looked away for a moment. She had expected the other deputies to have come by now but only the lifting sough of the wind through the trees met her ears.

Her hand had pulled away with her movement and rested on the fallen's back and it raised. Slowly turning back around Sammy stared with her eyes widened. It couldn't have happened. She was tired and her body hurt everywhere. Drained emotionally and mentally. Her brain must be torturing her further.

Stillness again and and she breathed a sigh. Was it relief or disappointment?

The massive shoulders of Myers then heaved again, undeniably.

Terror wrapped it's cold fingers about her throat and she couldn't utter. Michael's hand that lay scratched just next to her leg twitched a finger. It was a nightmarish hallucination! It had to be!

Then the solid muscles of his back under her hand gathered and Sammy fell backwards stunned.

The bent leg pushed out and his unfurled arm hooked in jerking, unnerving increments.

Sammy hit the wheel-less car. She didn't even realize she had been scooting backward her mouth agape.

He wasn't dead. 'You can't kill the boogeyman' Angel's prevision echoed in her brain.

Run.

She couldn't. Her leg refused to cooperate and he had proven inescapable so far. Rolling over she lowered herself and began to slither under the slim space of the junker vehicle. Sob-like gasps dried her throat as she got centered, hoping her feet weren't visible. Then she froze, trying to stifle her haggard breath. She could hear dragging and shifting behind her.

It was impossible! Her mind had finally broken and hot tears began to well her eyes. The lore of nordic vikings, berserkers immune to pain or even death had became reality and right before her eyes.

Then footsteps, slow and deliberate shuffled for a few steps and paused. It seemed so real to her. She was facing away from where Michael had lay. Real or imagined, she couldn't bring herself to move. He would hear, he would know. The air she held captive pushed to escape as the footsteps started again, coming along side the car she was under. The hard lump of her gun dug into her hip under her, inaccessible should she try for it. Then his feet did not scrape or lumber along the ground anymore, they barely sounded, stealthily and precise as a cat.

They came into her peripheral view and continued, but not away, they rounded the car until he came to the end Sammy faced. There they squared off facing her. Unable to hold her breath, Sammy gave up a surrendered, soft whimper. Michael had not killed her before. Opportunity after opportunity forgone and she now knew she had gotten too confident. He would not stop this time Sammy was sure and she would die.

The cuffs of his trousers raised a little and he crouched, a hand put to the ground middling his stance and fingers spreading wide. He had a long reach and Sammy knew he could drag her out easily. Somehow she knew no one was coming to help her.

Deep, unadulterated gasps were pumped by burning adrenaline. Posed so quietly for endless seconds, Sammy saw him lean forward, towards the shadowed gutter. Watching, her heart smashing furiously against her chest, Sammy saw him retrieve the knife. The air she sucked through her nose was thick and stale. As cold as it was, Sammy was sweating and heated. The outline of Michael's legs and arms silhouetted in light dimmed, was the headlight dying? The dark crowded around her and Sammy's eyes closed and her head dropped to the rough asphalt.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. All original characters and plot are the property of the author. No copyright infringement is intended.

 

' _I know your breathing_.  _I know you Loomis._ ' Michael thought as he felt at the abrasive skin of the road at the end of the car she hid under. It was not out of amusement he sat there, wondering if he could feel the vibrations of her racing heart. Any move he made towards her would terrorize her even more and he did not want that. But he did not want to go either.

When the car had hit him he did not side step it. Judith wanted him to run, to fail and to look weak. That would never happen again and it surprised him how little he felt as he was scooped up and thrown. He did not remember landing, only floating in empty nothingness.

A warm tingling trailed along his neck and pulled him back from wherever his mind had burrowed.

Loomis.

He had not been caught nor killed. He did not feel grateful, only fascinated. The touch had awaken him again and he felt basic contentment, like maybe a dog would to just sit and feel the stroke of a hand. And she had not moved the mask. Then Loomis said Angel. Michael knew Judith would not take care of her and he had to get up.

After taking the knife from the paved gutter he listened again. Loomis was breathing easier now. She was resting.

Standing, he turned to go home.

_Black cats and goblins and broomsticks and ghosts. Covens of witches with all of their hosts. You may think they scare me, You're probably right. Black cats and goblins on Halloween night…_

* * *

 

The old house looked cadaverous and hungry. It's first level windows blinded with boarding but the top ones sucked in at the night; tongues of tattered curtains licking at the wind.

Judith had only come here a few times over the years, often on Halloween. Sometimes she had brought the bodies. Missing persons never to be found to bury in the woods behind. The paint was all but gone and the dead, withered wisteria veined out over the porch and exterior of the house.

Now she had brought another home to it. One that had survived all those years because of  _him_.

Looking over at Laurie, Judith didn't smile. It was Angel's own fault. If she had kept to herself, Judith probably would have never found her. Maybe. Curiosity killed the cat. Maybe this is what Judith needed to finally feel complete. She had wanted Michael to be the last but the fool had just let her kill him too easily. Disappointing. He had almost had her in the station. The crushing on her neck too much for even her and for the first time in her life she'd realized she wasn't immortal. Then this one had intervened. Judith wondered how Michael had felt about it. His precious little 'Boo' against him too.

It would all be over soon though. All of them gone and Judith could finally be contented.

Then she remembered the doctor. Mind racing, Judith had to figure out how to tie up that loose end too. With Michael dead, she did not have a scapegoat. In this case she had planned ahead with Angel, but what could she do for Loomis? Suicide? Yes. The gun the woman couldn't seem to handle could be propped nicely and she could die next to Michael, unable to deal with her failure in helping him.

Leading Laurie Strode around the house to the back, Judith knew she wouldn't have much time. The Sheriff would come and everything had to be ready. Laurie in the house. Michael and Loomis on the street and Judith would pose herself in the car, 'unconscious' from the crash. Perfect. And she would most likely be recognised for stopping the rampant killer as well.

The back yard was dark but Judith knew where everything was. The old shed, the overgrown garden, the gate to the woods and the big box elder tree that dangled the ropes of swings. Only her mother's old bench swing still fully attached.

"Judith," Laurie said nervously, "Where's the other policemen?"

"I don't know." Judith answered, having to keep the annoyance out of her voice. "They said they were coming here. Maybe something happened and they haven't arrived yet. We'll wait for them."

The girl was well injured. She looked as though she wouldn't be able to go much farther.

Motioning to the swing Judith said, "If you sit down, I'll go to one of the houses to see if I can call…"

"No! Don't leave me please! I'll go with you!"

"Miss Strode, I think you need to rest."

Grabbing Judith's arm, Laurie wavered, "Please! Don't leave me out here. He...he'll come to get me."

Judith snorted but was pleased with the fear the girl was suffering, "Myers is dead. You'll never see him again. Look, I'll go back and get Dr. Loomis to look after you. Would you feel better if I found a safe spot for you to hide?"

"Hide?" Laurie asked dizzily.

"Yes. I remember when you were...little, you always felt safer when you were hiding. I...I know a good place. Look...Laurie, your...our brother is dead. But I know how it is to have him haunt you. It'll be a few minutes and I'll be right back. You'll be ok." She soothed her, putting her own hand to the girl's shoulder and speaking sweetly.

Laurie finally nodded, tears were falling from her eyes and mucus slicked her lip below her nose. Pathetic but beautiful.

The coal drop original to the house had been converted to a cellar door that one person could enter the basement at a time. Ducking down into the foundation Judith beckoned to Laurie who constantly hesitated. It was dark, nearly solid black. Feeling just inside, Judith found the next door to the utilities and furnace room.

"Come, sit in here." Judith squatted and felt the floor and found it, "Look, here's a flashlight. I thought I'd seen one in here."

The batteries were old and nearly juiced. But they powered a subtle light and Laurie took it gratefully. The musty air of the basement was tinged with a familiar odor that would be worse in the morning. Judith had put the bodies of the couple down here.

"Here just sit here and I'll go get Samantha." Judith smiled, "It's almost over ok? If it makes you feel any better, Michael was always scared of this room, he never went in here. Relax."

"I really don't want to stay here…"

Shrugging Judith turned, "You can come back with me I guess. I've got to check Myer's body too…"

The idea must have been enough to put her off and Laurie shook her head.

"No...I...never want to see him again." She muttered.

Judith nodded and pulled at a few spider webs while brushing a bit of tape on a pipe casually. A little red handle quarter turned now.

"Just wait for me and Loomis Laurie." Judith said encouragingly and shut the door.

The light lined the underside of the door and Judith quietly put an old piece of cloth along it, not just to block out the light, but to keep the air in. The gas pipe was broken and she had pulled away the tape to let it leak more freely; then turned on the flow. That would be the end for Angel. Rather humane in Judith's opinion.

Now she walked back around the house, trying to decide how to deal with Loomis when suddenly the shadows reached out and closed around her. Compressed brutally, about her chest, her arms were pinned and there was a slick, easy lifting of her side arm at her hip. She heard the sound of the gun hit the near bushes. Then she felt the unforgiving, razor edge of steel etch into her throat. All of it had happened too fast, he was too fast.

There had not been many times in her life that Judith had felt fear. Most of the time she felt nothing. When she preyed on people and invoked their panic she felt a rush. But now as she thought of what to do to fight to break free she had doubts about her success. The knife was there and she was not confident she would survive her neck slashed.

"You're not dead Michael?" She asked calmly. He hadn't killed her immediately and Judith would use all the time and opportunity she could.

Of course he didn't reply.

"Still not talking either? I'm actually impressed. You know...maybe we might actually have some of the same blood after all?"

The powerful arms pulled her backwards and she had no choice but to follow. The blade bit in even harder and she felt the skin split.

"I always thought you were fat, stupid kid. A victim. But tonight I think you've changed my mind." she continued, stumbling as they made it back to the back yard.

Michael paused and Judith could feel him turn his head slowly; looking for Angel?

The night hid her smile and Judith continued, "But I know your little secret Michael. Dr. Wynn's test drug? When he was dismissed from Smith's Grove he came and found me. He offered me the treatments too for five years. He said we had the same 'composure and countenance' , the best possible environment for the drug. Something about our lineage, our DNA."

Judith scoffed which cinched Michael's arms even tighter around her and he jerked her backwards again. They were under the meandering branches of the tree and then he loosened his hold on her with his arm but the knife came in deeper and Judith resisted the urge to swallow. Her blood was drizzling down her neck now as she moved her head back instinctively away from the blade.

The knife was suddenly gone and there was an ease in Michael's arm around her. At this opportunity she spun, throwing her free fist at the man behind her. Easily he caught her arm and began to twist it. Most men she grappled with she could overpower. With Michael there was no question of his strength now. He swung her around she struck the trunk of the old tree hard enough to daze her. He may have been hesitant in earlier fights but now he forced her arms behind her into the handcuffs he had taken from her hip.

"Wynn said that nothing short of brain destruction could stop us." Wynn had actually told her he thought that of Michael for he had been subject to the injections at a young age and for crucial, developing years. He did not know if Judith would ever 'catch up' or 'match' Michael's enhancement. This had always infuriated her. But now she began to realize he was far stronger and enduring as she faded.

Yet the thrust of the knife never came. She still had her key, easily reachable so Judith decided to wait for a better opportunity to free herself. The night had drained her and she had taken some pains from tangling with the other deputies, Michael and the crash, she doubted herself in a straight contest of power with him.

"You and I, we could try to kill each other forever." she sighed, "Did you kill Loomis?"

The tacked on question at the end made Michael pause then he yoked his arm around her neck again tightly. The other hand was fidgeting with something.

"I'll tell you if I killed Angel if you tell me if you killed Loomis. I think she had some hang up on you." The mocking tone in her voice got her a squeeze about her neck and she reacted by struggling to spin away but Michael grabbed her by the hair and held her. Then he lifted her up and she felt a platform of some kind put under her dangling feet. One of Angel's old plastic chairs? A loop of old, frayed manila rope was pulled over her head. Scratching it settled around her neck and cinched. He was going to hang her?

"Michael! If you kill me, you'll never find Angel! She'll die! She's dying right now. She could be in the woods or in the shed? Remember how we played look and find with your pets Michael? She could be at the neighbor's house or up in the room where she almost died 15 years ago!" Judith couldn't keep her own panic in check and her voice was shrill.

The rope tightened as she wobbled on the shifting chair. It might break under her weight if she didn't lose her balance.

He had released her and in the moonlight she could see him back away from her. The hideous mask he wore unnerved her. She hated him.

"Run! Run and find her." she goaded him.

He had tried to protect Angel all evening and Judith counted on that now. She hoped, for once in her life, that he would still cower and hesitate for she wasn't sure if she could best him now without some advantage.

Tilting his head slightly Judith took in a breath. Would he move the chair out from under her? Michael brought his hand out, opening it. In his palm was the cuff key and he dropped in onto the ground. A flare of anger made Judith jerk at the bonds on her wrists and the rickety chair quivered. Immediately Judith ceased her struggle, afraid of its collapse and Michael turned to look around slowly.

"Don't ever turn your back on me...Michael!" She hissed. But he started towards the house and Judith growled. If the chair held and the other officers came Judith would still be able to pin all of the murders on him with some quick touches. The night had been a chaotic one and it would be easy enough to plant evidences. She just hoped she would be released in time to help gun him down.

* * *

 

Judith was talking but Michael was listening to and watching other things. His mydriatic pupils could see well with the soft, cold moonlight and he searched. The gate to the woods was still covered over in vines and there were no trails in the tall grasses to either it or the shed. He felt pulled to the old house anyway and started that way.

He should have done it. He should have killed her. But if something had happened to Boo, he may do it differently. It would have to wait until he found his sister.

At the cellar door he saw the blackish drops on the cement of the steps. There had been some blood in the police car where he was sure Boo had sat. Ducking for the low clearance of the doorway he went into the basement. It was one part of the house he tried to avoid as a child. A place deprived of day besides two dirty windows, it smelled like an earth and mineral grave. If his mother asked him to go down to get a jar of bottled peaches it would stand his hair on end and set the dark creatures in his mind free to roam the labyrinth of storage boxes and shelves, waiting for him to wander into them.

The clutter on the floor was from flooding debris, old furniture that had fallen apart and garbage trespassers had brought in and left over the years. His foot kicked a rusted, bloating can and it skipped off into a corner. He had not looked that direction until now and his eyes narrowed at what he saw there. Two square gravestones lay against the foundation wall, dirt from where they must have been uprooted from their spot at the cemetery showing like pulled teeth. They read: Michael Myers and Deborah Myers. Laid out in front of them were two bodies. Those of the unfortunate couple who had come here.

He looked on them but briefly, a new awareness bringing some sort of unfamiliar feeling. Sorrow, abhorrence or perhaps guilt. Judith had killed them and somehow it was his fault. This and the disrespect of moving his parent's markers almost had him turn about to return to where he had left his older sister and finalize her sentence. But he had to find Boo. Judith had said she was here somewhere, hurt. The stairs to the next floor were just ahead and he felt an old inclination to leave the cellar as soon as possible.

A dim glow from a crack in the wall caught his attention however and he looked around to the door where the furnace and other utilities were accessed. A particular enmity had always kept him away from it as the portal from which his fears spawned but now he went over. He was no longer that little boy who was afraid of the monsters. He was the monster now.

He opened the door to see Angel slumped over in the corner unconscious...or dead. Her face was bruised and swollen, blood was thick as it had coagulated and dripped from her nose down to her chin and onto her sweater. She was grown up but Michael felt the unjust burn of her innocence. She had done nothing to deserve this but be born into a family of psychos. Had their mother been pushed to do what she did that Halloween because of Judith or had Judith been pushed to do what she had done now because of their mother? Other questions and thoughts he had pondered over the years without solution or reconciliation. One thing he did know, Judith was trying to kill him and Boo now. He would stop it.

He leaned over and put his fingers under her nose and felt no exhaust from her lungs. But she had a faint pulse. The quiet hiss of the pipe took his eyes to the broken joint. There was a red lever within reach and a direction to switch it off so he did. Quickly he scooped up her slim body and took her upstairs. If he went outside right now he felt he would kick the chair out from under Judith.

The mattress was in Judith's room and he set Angel down there. It reminded him of when his mother was gone working and he had to put his little sister to bed by himself. But she wasn't breathing and he tried to pat her face and urge her to take a breath, just like on Halloween 15 years ago. When that didn't help he remembered the CPR lesson they had shown in school years ago. The mask had no mouth hole and he quickly pulled it up so it propped up on his forehead. He couldn't remember the amount of breaths to give but he had to act.

At first he didn't think it worked and he wasn't sure he was doing it right. Maybe he should have laid her down flat instead of holding her but suddenly she breathed. He wanted to praise her and thank her for trying but nothing came from his throat so he just hugged her to him.

He remembered this, being able to hold someone he cared for. It had been 15 years and touch had been something he had come to regard as a violent and hateful thing. Now it spread through him like a late spring thaw that had finally come to a relentless winter. What time passed he paid no mind until he felt her shift. It was then he realized his mask was still pulled back and almost out of reflex he jerked it down to shelter his face.

Her face slowly tensed and pouted, she started to sniff and cry and she said, "Mom...please...don't die."

To hear it whipped him back those 15 years, himself wanting their mother to stay. But then he realized she must mean the Strode woman. Angel did not remember their mother. This filled him with a lament that made him intake a sharp breath.

Then her eyes broke open, floating around, not registering where she was until she looked straight to him and then they flared wide. A wild convulsion shook her and she pushed against him, kicking and flailing. Michael could have held her easily but he let her go and she scrambled away, letting out a piercing scream that was dampened by the broken and fractured walls. The door was just to his right which Angel must not have seen until she was to the furthest point away from him the room would allow.

Michael watched, his heart felt raw and blistered. She was frightened of him and it was his own fault. Still he couldn't call out to her.

Angel didn't scream anymore, she looked as though she hadn't the strength left to do anything but tremble and cry. Before he knew it, Michael had gotten to his feet and he began to cross over to her. His little sister wrapped her arms around her head and balled into the corner shaking.

Michael halted half way, the creaking of the floorboards hollow here and he thought of the hiding spot he stood on. Crouching over he pulled the boards up and took out the old plush rabbit. Carefully he went towards her again and sat the toy next to her and waited for a response but she only tensed tighter. How he could explain to her things that weren't explainable? Then he remembered. Zipping the coveralls open he reached into the pocket of his sweatpants that he still had on. Bent and crinkled, he brought out the picture of him and Boo. As carefully as he could he smoothed it.

Distant voices distracted him and he turned his head in the direction of the window. Someone had nailed a few boards across it and the wind wheezed as it came through. Then the motion of Angel crawling desperately for the unguarded door had him leap ahead of her, blocking her exit. Dropping her head in defeat at the hopeless escape, Angel whined and sniffed.

All Michael could think of to do was squat down and put the picture in front of her face. A bid for the grace of her understanding, not forgiveness.

Despite the straps across the window, the moon peeked through and fell across the picture. The girl turned her head slightly but did little else.

A stark shout reached them, "Laurie! It's Judith...!"


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. All original characters and plot are the property of the author. No copyright infringement is intended.

When Sammy woke her head spun in pain and she winced. She was still under the old vehicle and the light from the crashed squad car lit the road beside her. At once she looked around for Michael, ignoring the intensified pangs that sounded from much of her body. How long was she out? Seconds? Was he going to grab her from the side or drag her out by the foot?

The escalation of her alam made her dizzy and she feared she would pass out again. Putting her head down she tried to calm herself. There was nothing but quiet to assure her but she knew silence was Michael's domain.

But Michael had a presence, as strange as it sounded, and somehow Sammy began to feel it was absent. Still she waited for a minute, gathering her strength. Had he gone after Laurie and Judith? The police may have apprehended him already. They may have killed him.

She began to crawl out at the thought. Maybe she wasn't too late. For Laurie and Judith...and for Michael.

A cloud had settled half covering the moon and the shadow melded together as she went towards the old Myers' house. She had driven by it once before, once over a year ago. Every other house she limped past on the street was dark and empty looking also. Perhaps they were all at the festival?

45 Lampkin sat off by itself, the two leaf bare trees in its front yard blocking its full view like boney hands protecting its face. There was no sign of other police.

Pausing at the front gate, Sammy didn't know what she should do and felt lost. Where had they gone? Where had Michael gone? The gate was open and Sammy entered. Up the front steps she moved as quietly as she could manage. All the boarding felt stable under her examination. She wanted to call out for Laurie but could find now voice for it, what if Michael heard her?

It was all so surreal Sammy wondered if she was actually awake. Like a black nightmare of an abandoned world. But she could smell the decay of the house and the scent of dank autumn frost. She could feel the brush of the wind as it slipped by and the soreness of her injuries.

But she forced herself to walk back around the house and there she slowed, listening and wary.

Where had they all gone…?

The cloud passed by letting the moon illuminate the night again and Sammy gazed cautiously across the yard. The hanging body from the tree drew her eyes at once. Perhaps she had expended all the energy she needed to scream or even gasp but Sammy stood quietly observing. In the wind she would expect it to swing but it held steady. Then she realized the person was standing and she started forward.

She finally found her voice when she hurried as much as she could up to the strung body. It was Judith who stood very still on some sort of stool. But where was Laurie?

"Deputy?" Sammy said quietly, looking around anxiously.

There was a spastic turn from Judith and the platform she stood on tipped slightly causing her to lose her balance and lean into the rope about her neck. The large woman squeaked and Sammy jumped forward to help steady her.

"Loomis!?" Rathmore rasped as if the rope had tightened.

"Yes Judith. Hold still, I'll get you down." Sammy looked up to see if she could reach the knot somehow. The only other thing she could see to stand on was the swinging bench that wavered in the wind just a couple feet away.

"The key!" Judith roughly answered. "It's right next to your foot!"

Sammy dropped to her knees, taking in a sharp breath at the pain that flared through her leg. Moving her perspective she saw the flash of reflected moonlight and picked it out of the weeds and grass. Carefully she got around back of Judith and began trying to decipher how to unlock the handcuffs.

"Where is Laurie? How did you…?" She might not have had to ask, the answer had to be Michael.

"He tried to kill me and then went to find Laurie! She ran into the woods." Judith said hushedly.

The cuffs finally released and Judith began to work at the cord about her neck. It was only a simple slip knot.

Looking at the house Sammy felt confused. Michael hadn't killed her and now he had left Judith alive also. What would he do with Laurie if...when he found her? What left her even more bewildered was why the police hadn't come yet.

"Where is Sheriff Brackett?" Sammy asked finally as Judith stepped down from what Sammy saw to be an old plastic chair.

"I don't know but there's no time. Do you still have your gun?" The wind picked up, bending the dead grasses and pushing the swing into motion.

Hesitantly Sammy nodded. How could it be she still didn't want to use it to stop Michael?

"Give it to me." Ordered Judith who stepped up to her expectantly.

But Sammy didn't, "Michael is my responsibility. I think I should be the one to…"

"I saw your incompetence with that gun Dr. Loomis. You lack not only the skill but the willingness to do what has to be done. Give it to me." Judith charged putting her hand out.

Even though she ached and felt as though she could collapse any moment, Sammy shook her head and put a protective hand to the pocket the gun was in, "I won't this time."

There was a ringing scream from the upper stories of the Myers house and Sammy spun to look up.

With a swift lunge Judith grabbed at Sammy's wrist and pushed her to the ground, forcing her to her stomach. Sammy cried out to protest but the thick grass muffled her voice as Judith pushed her face into the ground. She felt her hands cross and the cuffs lock around her wrists. Then she was hauled to her feet, her arms being pulled to a painful angle.

"What are you doing!?" She demanded, stumbling as she was pushed back to the tree.

"You're going to die Doctor. If Michael won't do it then I'll have to."

Judith was reaching for the dangling rope.

Sammy couldn't believe what she was hearing and she again thought, hoped she was still unconscious and dreaming inconceivably horrible things. This made no sense she denied her ears at first only to have her scientific mind begin the put the pieces of questions and bothersome thoughts that had dogged her until now in place. Judith's strange behaviors and her conveniently there when they came out of the Strode house. Judith had had Doyle's flashlight that now Sammy wondered if she had used it to pummel him. The other officer died without Judith accounted for. She could have committed all of those murders.

Hurt and tired, Sammy still tried to break free, wiggling away from her captive she tried to flee but she was hit from behind and fell forward. About to scream she felt the solid prod the gun barrel push into her cheek and the click of the hammer.

"Please make it hard for me. Make me do it." Judith's voice was electrified, almost joyful.

Sammy froze. This woman  _was_  the killer and Sammy found new fear in the revelation.

"Get up." A hand grabbed the back of her coat collar and pulled her to her feet. She was already mostly relying on a single leg and would fall again only to be dragged by force.

"Judith…" Sammy started, "Please. There is no way you can…"

The swipe of the pistol to her jaw snapped her face to the side and blurred her conscious. She was lifted, head threaded through the loop and should she have not stiffened her good leg to find the rickety chair seat she would have strangled right then. She was shorter than Judith was and so was on her tip toes.

"Michael's expecting to find someone here. I don't want to disappoint him." was the chilling explanation. "You can't win Michael." Judith added to the ghost with demented venom.

So Sammy yelled as loud as she could, "Laurie! It's Judith…!"

The chair was suddenly gone and Sammy swung. There was hardly any drop for her but the rope tightened then stopped with a clawing burn to the back of her head. Her hair had gotten tangled in the single knot and kept it from drawing completely. It mattered little for she would still strangle to death. Where Judith was she didn't know as she kicked her legs in what might have been her last moments until miraculously she felt something under her feet. Then it was gone again. The scratchy rope was caught under her jaw bones and ran behind her ears. She struggled until she felt the platform again and her feet pawed for it. It moved but she tried to keep it stable. It was the swing and it relieved some of the pressure on her neck but it wasn't enough. Now she fumbled with her hands. Her wrists had always been small and she collapsed her hands as narrowly as she could. One hand slid part way through the cuff then was free completely. Desperately gasping, she grabbed at the rope overhead and strained to lift herself with it just enough to slip the noose past her chin. Then she fell, part of her hair ripped from her head.

Now Judith would shoot her and as she lay on the ground, she braced for it.

* * *

 

It was Loomis and she sounded as though she had been cut off. Leaving Angel, Michael dropped the picture and went out of the room along the hallway. He had assumed Loomis would go for help. He assumed he would have enough time to kill Judith and see Boo one last time before they dragged him back to the deep oblivion of his hospital cell, or killed him. If she had stayed and come after him she surprised him again. Was she brave or crazy too?

If she had found Judith she would have helped her and Judith might be free. Judith might hurt Loomis. He took the stairs in three leaps, the knife magically there and grasped in his fist. The door to the cellar was in the kitchen and Michael went to dash down the stairs there when he was hit from behind in the back of the head. A skull cracking strike that sent him tumbling forward down the narrow, unforgiving stone steps.

It was a severe enough blow that he was dazed for a moment when he landed face down. Surely bones were broken and pain washed over him with paralyzing force. He still heard the quick steps that came down behind him, heard the swish of the swing and the thud of the object that flogged him on his back sending a pulse of fire through his ribs.

"This reminds me of how I pushed you over the railing that night Michael. You disappointed me then by not dying too. I could shoot you right now, right through the head and you'd never get up." mused Judith.

The blank memory of that fall suddenly surfaced and he saw Judith's twisted face flush as she lifted him and then shoot up into the sky as he fell. At times he had thought perhaps his insane mother had done it but now he knew, It had been Judith, was that why his mother had tried to kill her? For him?

He turned to see her swing some sort of pipe or rod which caught him in the side.

"This is Dr. Loomis' gun and she could be the one credited for it. Then they'll find her body outside hanging. Suicide probably. But I want you to see Angel die."

She stooped to pick up the knife he had dropped in the fall then backed up as Michael hesitated. Loomis was hanging? Was she already dead? He pushed himself to his feet, a foreign feeling of dismay weaving with the anger that drove him. There was pain but he could stand and he started towards the door to the yard.

Judith's voice chimed behind him, "I didn't expect this! Loomis over Angel? Your choice of course but I'm not going to wait for you to cut her down. I'll promise I'll make it fast for Angel Michael. Faster than I did for mom."

The last five words were earth shaking for Michael. It stunned him more that the impact of the car bumper had and, half way across the basement he paused just to hear a laugh from Judith who called up the stairs.

"Laurie! It's Judith! I'm coming!"

The pull of the different directions, different choices, made him feel as though he would be ripped apart. The strong bond he had shared with Angel that had strengthened when he was the one that took care of her as their family fell apart tugged him back into the house, after Judith. Another strong but different connection beckoned from outside and he had no time to debate. Through the eye holes of the mask he took another large stride to the small window and looked out, able to see the tree clearly. There was no one hanging from the rope that swung in the wind.

Instantly Michael turned. Judith was a liar and he would tear her apart as she had him.

Somehow, it had been her who had killed his mother and tried to kill Angel. Every second of pain and misery from the last 15 years...no, it had been far longer than that, it had been because of Judith.

Up the stairs he listened as he went, she would not take him unaware again. He could hear her heavy tread on the stairs moving swiftly. He listened for Angel but she was not moving, if she was still in the house.

Passing through the kitchen into the decayed living room he was in the entryway, seeing Judith's hand on the railing on the second floor, clutching the kitchen knife.

"Laurie…" Judith called, "It's ok, come out."

A hardened, psychological barricade blocked the push of wind Michael tried to pass through his vocal chords. He wanted to rebel against the silence he had been a willing slave to for so long and refute who he now knew to be the monster. The monster who was prowling for his little sister.

He climbed the stairs, solid in the resolve that he would never let Judith hurt Angel or any other person again.

She knew he had come and turned to face him at the other end of the open hall. Where was Angel? She couldn't have made it out of the house, he would know.

"Laurie…" Judith started again, "I can't protect you unless you…"

Michael felt the urge to attack. The need to take her apart slowly, to make it a horrible ending for her burned in his veins like nitrogen. And he could do it. He realized he had held back until now For what reason could have been childish intimidation or some sort of noble consideration he may have felt was expected of him. From who? No one cared about him, not even his sisters.

Maybe Loomis?

There was a soft step come from the center room, their mother's room. The house was dark and for the average eye it would be nearly impossible to see anything in the cursed space they had all finally come circle to.

But Michael could see them, he could see both Judith and now Angel who's finger-tips clutched the edge of the door frame, too frightened to come further. He could walk forward to scare her, he could charge for Judith and finish her to stop the threat. In front of Angel, hadn't she had seen enough tonight? But what other option did he have?

So softly and lullingly, Judith said once more, "I'm here Angel."

She wanted Michael to see it. To feel helpless again. But he didn't care, he wasn't helpless. And the final thought was that he would keep his promise to his mother, he would keep Angel safe.

An unsure foot emerged, followed by Angel's quivering head that was turned towards Judith.

Swallowing at the dry bark of his idle throat, Michael pushed at the invisible barrier of his mutism. What he had used so long ago as a rebellion, a resort of control and sanctuary had grown into a prison of silence.

Angel still hesitated.

"That's it…" Judith started but a strange vibration rumbled from the shape by the stairs.

"Boo." followed it, the weak consonant barely discernible, the mask did little to help, "No. Mmm-nn...not to Judit."

There had been a small gasp, it could have been from either woman.

"T-to me Angel." he felt the sounds out like someone stepping carefully onto slick ice.

Sharply Judith took a step forward, it made Angel pull back into the room and Michael moved forward also.

His tongue was awkward and lazy but Michael forced it to perform, "Judith...killed…Mom. Hurt...you."

"Laurie! You need to run to me!" shouted Judith.

"We know. You and me Boo." Michael finished. If Angel listened to him, he could reach her before Judith.

The world stopped for a breath. Then the darkened figure of his little sister broke from the hollow of the door, towards him.

"Michael!" she cried.

Blindly she came, arms outstretched and he came forward to meet her, taking her arm and swinging her behind him. Barely had he time to turn around again when a bright star burst with a boom. The gun fired and Michael's head rocked back with the impact of the lead point that struck him.

* * *

 

Too late. Sammy drove her shoulder into the side of Judith's back too late. She had heard Michael speak and became bound in place for an expensive second. Straddling the window she had crawled through, the heavy, mellow tones from a man who didn't speak had her ears desperate to hear more.

When she had realized Judith had left her in the yard, Sammy had made her way to the basement door only to find it locked somehow from inside. Her memory came back with seeing an old ladder laid up along side the house and she had hobbled away to put it to one of the only entries. An upstairs window.

She only knew Judith was just outside the room's door she had breached when the woman spoke and then was astounded when she heard who could only be Michael Myers beseeching his sister to come to him.

A dim glint from the moonlight on the gun and Sammy knew what Judith was going to do and she barreled towards her. The gun bellowed and Sammy fell on top of Judith. On the way down they fell against the railing and crumpled to the floor. Surprisingly, Judith did not retaliate at once. Quick reflexes had Sammy reloop the handcuffs she had brought with her, one around Judith's wrist then the other about a spindle of the rail. Then she scampered away, feeling for the gun on the ground where she thought she had heard it drop but couldn't find it.

Laurie was saying something rashly. Michael's name and Sammy realized he may have been hit.

Struggling to get onto her one working leg, Sammy felt her way down along the railing and in less than 10 feet she came to the two.

Laurie jumped when Sammy put a hand to her shoulder.

"Laurie, it's Sammy!"

"He's….Michael, he's…" Laurie didn't finish and perhaps she didn't know what to declare.

Sammy felt gingerly next to Laurie and found the broad chest of Myers. He was standing although leaning against a wall.

"Michael are you...hurt?" she wished he would talk again and it made her feel guilty and selfish.

There was no reply however and less light, maybe another cloud had hampered the moon's glow.

Strange the reluctance Sammy felt now was not about fear, it was about being intrusive but she felt about his waist and side. She found a slick of warmness there and knew he had been shot. Then, noticing his arm not there she carefully traced up to his shoulder and found it leading to his head. His hand was also sticky and wet. Sammy gently worked her fingers under his and she was surprised when he allowed it. The mask was still on. She could just make out the white skin.

"I think he's wounded on his head." Said Sammy. Likely just a graze or he wouldn't still be standing.

"She needs you to take the mask off Michael." Said Laurie who put her hands up to the mask but Sammy felt Michael's hand grab his sister's.

"He won't let me…" Laurie said forlorn.

Sammy wasn't surprised. She could do little with no light anyway and began to move her own hand from where it was in the mask's fake hair. But then Michael's hand came back and grabbed hers, bowing his head he guided it to the split behind the ear. There he pressed it, encouraging her to take hold of it. Then he let go and waited. Sammy was yet again stunned, she did not want to misunderstand but she was fairly certain he was granting her this allowance.

Carefully she began to slide it, if he had been hurt she did not want to upset the wound. She wished she had some scissors to cut it off but she would have to just take her time and be cautious. The mask came free and on que a bit of moonlight fell in from the rooms and some cracks in the roof. It was still dark but now Sammy could see the tangled thicket of his hair pressed to his skin, still covering his face. Suddenly his head cocked up making Sammy jerk her hand away as if it was burned.

Then a strange snapping made her turn about. Something pounced on her and she felt the sting of the knife blade in her arm. Judith.

Sammy fought back as much as she could, a shadowed blur hands or limbs grabbing and clawing at her. An arm was clamped under hers and wrapped up to her neck as she fought. With a last heave of strength, Sammy pushed her legs, throwing them both off balance and backward.

Then she felt her feet leave the floor, the narrow railing teetering against her back and she began to fall but she held tight to the shadow that had held her. It began to fall too. Both of them.

Something closed around one of her wrists and she found herself suspended in a physical agony that overwhelmed her brain. There was an immense weight also wrapped around her neck and she knew it was Judith who was still clinging to her.

Michael had grabbed Sammy and was leaning into the old rail to support both hanging women.

He put out his other hand, straining to reach Judith's hand that dug into Sammy's neck.

The fall was perhaps a good six feet, Sammy didn't think she would die from it but it could easily break bone if she landed wrong.

The painful clamp of Judith's arm let go and now Michael held them both. Behind him Sammy could barely see Laurie trying to hold him also.

With a grunt she felt him strain to lift them and they rose a couple of feet but he couldn't go further. Judith was struggling at his grasp.

"Judith…" it was Michael again, "Stop."

"I'll kill you Michael! I hate you! I'll always hate you!" she screeched and Sammy then saw the kitchen knife come up in her other hand. She began to slash at her brother's arm with erratic fury.

Sammy didn't know what to do, if she moved she may make it too difficult for him to keep a hold of her but she couldn't hang there and watch Judith attack him so. Maybe she would have to fall.

Reaching out, Sammy grabbed at the hand that wielded the knife, trying to bat it away or hold it. Then Judith was not there anymore, and Sammy felt his other hand come to support her arm also. He began to pull her up and she tried to help as best she could by grabbing the railing and hoisting herself. Michael lifted her by her waist back in the hallway and Sammy let out a shaky breath. But where was Judith?

They all looked over, the deep pool of darkness making it hard to see anything.

"Is she down there Michael?" Sammy asked anxiously.

He was breathing harshly also but only made a quick nod she just caught.

They waited for Judith to stir but she didn't.

Michael straightened and turned for the stairs, somehow he was still moving smoothly. The girls followed.

Tripping over rubbish on the floor, they trailed behind the large shape who stopped below where Sammy figured they had dangled. For such an old, humble house, it was was a good distance down from the second floor.

Laurie had lagged behind and now took in a sharp breath. Turning to see what had caused it, Sammy could just see the girl straightening then a screen lit up in her hand. Laurie's eyebrows furrowed and her mouth tightened. She also held an old looking toy rabbit by the ear that Sammy hadn't seen until now.

"What is it Laurie?" Sammy was glad for a reason to move away from the motionless heap on the floor.

"This...this is Lynda's. My friend Lynda's phone…" the girl said. "I saw something glow just under that newspaper. I haven't heard from her since yesterday."

Laurie's friend must have been here? It was an added mystery that Sammy felt she couldn't process right now but she put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Maybe she...was here and dropped it." the lame explanation was completely open to harmless or horrible outcomes. "But we can call the police on it. Could I use it's light to...look at Rathmore?"

Nodding, Laurie handed her the phone. Sammy could see it was nearly out of batteries. She walked back over to where Michael stood with Judith at his feet. His tall form was still intimidating and some reserve stingma still made her nervous to approach him.

Taking her own breath, Sammy pushed the activate button and the screen lit up dimly.

Judith lay on the floor, somewhat on her side. She could have been sleeping for no limbs were at strange angles but one hand was tucked up near her head and Sammy had to squeeze her eyes shut. The image followed her into the retreat behind her eyelids. Maybe Judith had tried to catch herself, putting her hands out, even the one holding the knife. It had somehow landed blade up and now impaled the woman's head, running in one side and out the other. A swelling puddle of red blood ringing the peaceful looking face that stared at nothing ahead.

Ragged breaths came from behind her and she felt Laurie grab the back of her coat.

Sammy turned immediately and ushered her to the wall, leaving the grim picture to the shroud of the dark.

"Let's go. We'll call the police outside…" Sammy started to suggest but Laurie jolted.

"No! She'll come after us! She'll get up!"

"Laurie...she's dead. Trust me." even as she said it, Sammy suddenly doubted herself.

Michael had been hit by a car and was still standing. The two seemed to share incredible endurance and an deterrence to death.

But Laurie let her go and carefully edged over to Michael.

"Will you stay Michael? If we stay, we can...make sure." his sister asked.

He turned his head to her and nodded.

So Sammy put in the call and a solemn deputy answered. The screen blinking in warning of imminent shutdown had her hurriedly tell them where they were and that they had the killer there. She couldn't explain further because the phone cut off and went dark. They would come for sure now. That they hadn't already bothered her. Maybe Judith hadn't called them at all.

The moon must have traveled in the sky for there was some light filtering over the upstairs railing from two of the rooms. It highlighted their outlines better and Sammy could see Judith's body hadn't moved.

The two Myers' had sat down against the wall, and Sammy could just see Laurie lean her head on her brother's arm, the plush rabbit under elbow. It was not how she had expected to see this night to end up.

Some minutes past and the house was quiet. Sammy felt out of place in the broken pieces at the end of this tragic story. That Michael had not been the one who killed his mother and the two men 15 years ago. She wondered what would become of him now. What would Laurie do with her parents gone?

Still holding the phone Sammy accidentally depressed the button again and it managed to light again, flashing the low percentage. In the light she saw the side of Michael's neck completely covered in fresh, glistening blood. She moved over to where he sat and gingerly lowered herself to the floor. The mess of his hair still veiled his face fairly well but she could see him alert and those dark eyes watching her although he did not turn his face to her.

"Michael, can I...look?" She asked.

He tilted his head to her in what she hoped was consent and she lifted the phone and went to move his hair carefully in search of the blood source. Under some of the dreadlocked, blood caked hair, Sammy saw the wound. A hole just above his ear and she gasped. A bullet hole and it bled freely.

How unimaginable it could be that he had taken a bullet and not died!? The man didn't even flinch as Sammy swallowed, having to call again for the dying phone to light. She had heard of people shot in the head and survive of course so she assured herself it was scientifically acceptable and began to inspect further. Then she found the slug. Further back about four inches she could feel it under the skin of his scalp as if it had burrowed and lodged there. It felt strange being this close to him not being in chains or locked in his room back at the asylum. Yet as edgy as she was, she felt a shared confidence that they did not to hurt each other.

What about the other places where Judith had shot him? Sammy remembered suddenly and began to look without asking but Michael made no move to stop her. The first that caught her eye was a large blood stain in his upper thigh, the coveralls had a large tear in them, maybe from the wreck. Sammy moved them just slightly and was able to see the clean hole where the bullet had entered. She didn't think it had exited. Then her eyes went to his waist just above where another bloom of red surrounded another hole. This one concerned her greatly but she would have a hard time seeing it without stripping him to the waist. Hopefully the responders would bring an ambulance.

Laurie's eyes were closed. Was she sleeping? She had a hand clenching the opened zipper line of his coveralls and looked exhausted and finished. The light flicked off again, perhaps it's last time but Sammy pushed it one more time to turn on.

"You're losing a lot of blood. Do you need to lay down?" She asked him.

Michael had never taken his steel-ringed eyes from her and now she met them. He made a slow shake of his head. He looked pale, his breathing was heavy but he gave no sign of fainting from loss of blood or even discomfort.

At his shoulder was the last one she could find and it was opposite the side she knelt on. The sleeve was also torn so Sammy reached across to move it just slightly. She had to lean a bit closer to see it at the angle of his curved deltoid. Laurie was on that side and Sammy did not want to disturb her.

She didn't realize how close she was until feeling his breath at her neck and she turned her face slightly about to apologize for crowding him.

Unhindered by blinking he quietly watched her, his eyes leaving hers only for a moment to look over her face with a warm interest that she had never seen him have before. And for some reason she did not withdraw. She let him look and she looked back at him unabashed, indulging a curiosity of her own that had always been thwarted by a mask. His skin sheened with sweat but there were hardly any wrinkles anywhere. Being locked away from the sun and perhaps little expression to a person's face could do that. The unchecked beard made him look older however. But his low resting eyebrows made his gaze all the more pensive and she almost smiled at the thought that they fascinated her. She had not gotten to see them often. Then she realized, somehow the distance between them had thinned and she thought to pull away but hesitated. The epiphany that she cared for him even more than she had let herself admit had her silently questioning his thoughts.

Then he dropped his eyes to his sister's head and slowly turned from Sammy.

It seemed an obvious rejection and Sammy leaned back, embarrassed at herself.

"I'm sorry Michael I…" she had no ending for the whisper.

He filled his chest and opened his mouth, "Don't know how to...love anybody…"

The words came warped and gracelessly. His sister shifted.

Sammy hated herself. How could she have been so bold and assuming? He was…Michael Myers. A patient and now definitely wasn't the time for anything such as this. Never would it be.

With a shy and dismissing smile she shook her head, "I think you've loved more than most."

She wanted to change the subject quickly and the phone blinked off one last time.

"Is...Angel's friend Lynda here?" she asked, she could just see him nod again. "Is she dead?"

Another nod.

Sirens in the distance wailed and Sammy waited for them. The spinning red and blue colors peeked through the cracks of the boards and they could hear the shuffling of feet and shouting.

Laurie awakened and looked around anxiously when a bullhorn boomed, "Anyone in the house, come out!"

Sammy, sitting some feet away from the Myers' shouted back, "We can't! The boards and we're injured!"

The force ripped the barricade off the front door and windows. Guns sprouted, trained on them.

"Hands up everyone!"

Sammy and Laurie did so, but not Michael.

"Get away from him! If you don't get your hands up Myers we're going to shoot!" It was Brackett.

Panic filled her again and Sammy started to argue, "No! He's not the one!"

"He didn't do anything! It was Judith!" Laurie yelled and she crawled in front of him like a shield.

Sammy did the same. Of course they wouldn't hesitate to shoot Michael after what had happened.

"Sheriff you must believe me. Deputy Rathmore...she is the killer. Don't shoot!" she begged.

Refusing to lay on the ground Sammy wasn't sure she and Laurie wouldn't be shot also. Officers poured in. More than just the Haddonfield office but other uniforms and they grabbed the girls, dragging them aside and throwing them to the ground roughly. Only Sammy was handcuffed however.

More surrounded Michael.

"Do not fire Sheriff." Said a familiar voice. Dr. Klein.

Michael was 'apprehended' although Sammy was skeptical of just how restrained he really was. The scene was chaotic again. The emotion of the deputies finding one of theirs fallen, Sammy hurriedly told them a slipshod account of what had happened and what she thought may have happened 15 years ago. She was listened to with suspicious frowns. Laurie was crying and calling for Michael who was forced to the floor and held there by knees and elbows. Sammy could see him closing his eyes at the bright flashlights that were shined in his face but he remained docile.

Klein must have some enormous sway for he spoke quietly to a riled Sheriff who Sammy suspected would have shot Michael himself given the chance. After Sammy and Laurie were handcuffed and questioned for what felt like an hour they were taken to separate squad cars.

Anxiously Sammy tried to get someone's attention. She saw the ambulance come and Laurie was moved over to be examined. When her door did open, Sammy saw Klein standing there with a state officer, looking at her with flint in his eyes.

"Dr. Klein, Michael is hurt. He's sustained four gunshot wounds and was...hit and thrown more than 30 feet by a car…" Sammy started.

"I've already heard your account and Myers will be attended to. You however have put me in quite an uncomfortable position." said Kline chillily.

Sammy wanted to argue that she had done what she felt she had to but that was not the important point right now.

"I'm sorry Doctor, but I feel that it is important for you to understand that Judith is dangerous…"

"And I  _do_  understand she is quite dead." he cut in.

Sammy felt her cheek heat, logically she thought so too, but after what had happened, she couldn't banish the childish fear of the boogeyman who could not be killed.

"I think…" Sammy persisted, "...that Michael is the only one who can match her."

"Please get out of the car Loomis."

Sammy winced at her movement and needed help. The officer took her by the arm and Klein just began to walk. They went to Klein's car and Sammy was helped in the front seat. She saw the ambulance load up Laurie and pull away. She did not see where they had taken Michael.

She asked if he would be taken to jail but Klein just closed the door and walked to the front of the car and began speak to someone on the phone. Helplessly Sammy sat. She should be tired, she most likely needed to go to the hospital as well but she was so torqued inside. Watching the crime scene build around her, she numbly remained where she was put. Covered bodies were being carried out and put into ambulances. People had come out of their homes to watch. Where had they been before?

After a while Klein put his phone away and spoke to the officer who came and took off Sammy's cuffs.

Klein went to the driver's side door and got in, turning the key.

"Dr. Klein…" Sammy began but was cut off.

"Connor Slone is stabilized and being held at Rockford memorial under guard. He has been attributed to the murders at Smith's Grove. Some video was able to be taken that confirms this." Klein informed her.

The last thing Sammy wanted to think about was Conner and she burst, "I am not surprised! What will they do with Michael? What hospital will he go to? I want to be there. He may not take to the the environment well…"

"Settle yourself down." said Klein as they drove, "You are in no position to be making demands."

Sammy felt suddenly angry, "You are somewhat to blame for this! You gave that enhancement drug to a boy who had been convicted of murder and had the diagnosis of a monster!"

"But he isn't a monster is he?"

"He could have been! Told everyday that's what he was when he was completely innocent!" Sammy vented.

"I was not the jury nor judge. Wynn had made up faulty consent forms and court allowances to conduct such tests and I was naive of it. But when Dr. Wynn and I considered testing the treatment, I would have never consented to try it on anyone else. I felt very deeply that he was not what he seemed, just as you did. When it began to be detrimental to his behavior, I stopped the course."

"But Wynn didn't did he? He kept sneaking it in until he was fired. Then he went and found Judith!" Exclaimed Sammy.

For the first time Klein's stone face crumbled a bit, "Yes. I didn't know but should have suspected. He was far more invested in the drug than I. Delusional. I thought because no other subject had the genetic make-up that Michael had it would have no effect for anyone else besides a psychotic breakdown. I had Wynn fired when I found out he had nefariously counterfeited the paperwork and thought I had destroyed or confiscated all that was left of the compound. But I would have never guessed he would find another Myers." he lamented.

What else could she say to him? Sammy sagged in her seat, withdrawing inside herself to think about Laurie and Michael. Failing to ask or even think of where she was being taken, maybe assuming back to the hospital, Sammy found herself looking out the window as the timberline of the woods flew by in the dark. They were on the highway back to Smith's Grove.

"Why are we going there?" She asked a reserved Klein.

"We have some work to do." He said simply.

Sammy insisted she was in no condition to help do anything as she was. She needed to clean up, to have her leg and some of her deeper cuts looked at. And she needed sleep. She didn't mention the internal revulsion that turned her stomach at the thought of being in those hallways where the whole nightmare started.

The only comment she was afforded was, "You'll never forgive me if I don't bring you."


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. All original characters and plot are the property of the author. No copyright infringement is intended.

 

And when Sammy entered one of the infirmary rooms that Smith's Grove had to do physical examinations and even minor surgery she blinked in disbelief.

Laying on a table was Judith Myers' body, Cherry was dressing it down for an autopsy. Taking a look at Sammy, Cherry shook her head, tisking at her state. A plainclothes man stood against the wall watching.

With her permission, Dr. Klein began to tend to Sammy's injuries; determined to have a crack in her femur and mild concussion from the car wreck. The gash in her hairline was stitched up and she was given an analgesic for her discomfort. Then Sammy was able to shower and change into a set of scrubs.

When Dr. Klein came to fetch her she was about to insist upon being sent home for rest when a detail of officers and orderlies turned down the hallway in front of them.

Michael Myers walked in their midst, head hung and feet shuffling with the hobbling chain about his ankles. They had brought him here? From the look of the coveralls he still wore and the dried blood that caked the visible skin of his hands and neck, he had not been tended to by doctors yet. Klein motioned for her to follow and they returned to the infirmary where the lights had been significantly dimmed. Sammy, only able to walk aided by crutches, stopped at the door by Klein.

One of the officers told Michael to sit on an examination table but Michael continued to stand. Feeling as though the situation should be handled more carefully, Sammy looked to Klein anxiously who needed no words and nodded.

She crossed over and with fresh energy thanked the officers and told them they could back up as she put the two braces against the table. They looked back at Klein, probably to validate her authority, and the order was echoed by him. A key was given to her and they cleared the room, only the man at the wall, now joined by another who had been with Myers' escort, lingered by Klein near the door.

Michael still stood looking down at his feet and Sammy again was in amazement of his stamina despite his injuries. With no reservation now, she took one of his hands and began to unlock the heavy shackles. She thought she felt his slack fingers brush across her forearm and she glanced up at him to catch the black mirrors of his eyes dart back down neutrally.

Her own medication must have been working for she felt little pain as she moved. She asked him if he could remove the coveralls and then the T-shirt underneath, letting him keep the sweat pants on.

It was a battlezone on his body. Bruising areas larger than her hand span, abrasions and lacerations, especially all over his arm and leg where Judith had sliced at him. The bullet holes oozed dark red and all mixed in a swamp of dirt, sweat and blood.

"Michael," She asked as she put on her latex gloves, "Would you...like me to get you a mask?"

She hadn't thought of it until now and was surprised at the slight shake of his head. He still let his hair fall to provide himself a sort of penetralia.

Then he laid down of his own mind and Cherry came over with a tray of instruments and sterilizing materials. Sammy gave him local numbing agents then she and Cherry began to search for the lost bullets scattered in his flesh. The side of his head had to be shaved but Sammy was careful to only cut what she had to, leaving enough to cover his face. Four slugs plonked into a metal bowl and Dr. Klein came to help stitch up and bandage the sites.

The two men who stayed were given the coveralls and some samples of grit and grime Klein had collected and put in small baggies then they left. Accompanied by Dr. Klein, Michael was taken also and Cherry offered to drive Sammy home.

But Sammy asked if she could go see Laurie instead. Not wanting to be alone for some reason, Sammy wondered if Laurie felt the same. The request was denied. Cherry said that for official investigational purposes they were to be kept separate but that Sammy could stay at her place in Somerdale.

The sun was up when they drove there and Sammy fell asleep in Cherry's spare bedroom. Sleeping through the next day she was woken and questioned the day after by detectives.

Authorities told her she would not be able to work at Smith's Grove while investigations and hearings concerning both Conner and Michael would be happening. The Haddonfield City Hospital made an offer to Sammy to finish her internship there after she had settled the issue of her unauthorized walkout.

The next time she saw Michael and Laurie was in a courtroom and she was unable to speak to either. Michael did not testify but he didn't have to. A JVC camcorder DVC tape was found in Laurie's plush bunny that Steven, Judith's boyfriend, had hidden in it's stuffings 15 years ago before he had died. On it was video of much of what had happened on 45 Lampkin Lane. Judith Myers clearly the butcher of the souls that perished that night.

Then he was sustained innocent with evidences such as the coveralls in the back of Judith's car that actually had blood from every murder on the most recent Halloween. The white mask had no such matter on it. This and other evidence along with testimony kept the state prosecutors from bringing a case with Michael as the perpetrator.

They also found the graves of nearly a dozen missing persons from Illinois and the surrounding states in the woods behind their old house and could tie them to Judith. Judith had always been the real killer.

Still Michael had other charges to answer for: Prison escape, grand theft auto of a bullet bike, and assault. Michael had knocked out 3 guards to escape from Smith's Grove however none of them decided to press charges. Sheriff Brackett was less lenient and made sure his case was heard for being tossed through the sliding glass door.

In the end Michael's sentence was a complicated one for he was exonerated of the murders for which he had already served 15 years. The nurse whose death he had been blamed for had never really been proven and Michael now explained the death as an accident. He had spilled his milk on the floor and the short tempered nurse had told him to clean it up. When he resisted she knocked his tray and utensils off the table and then slipped in the milk on the polished floor. The fork had pierced her neck, a strange shadow of what would later happen to Judith?

So the collective sentence would keep Michael at Smith's Grove for another three years as the judge took in consideration the time he had already dedicated.

Conner was determined to be a danger to society and he was given life in prison for the workers he had killed at Smith's Grove and the theft and redistribution of controlled substances. It was determined most of the problems with the surveillance system was from his tampering to cover up his crimes.

Those months went by as if she were dreaming and when it was all over it was time for Sammy go back to England and begin her psychiatric residency at Broadmoor in Berkshire. She would see Laurie before she left who had decided to go stay at her grandparents for the upcoming summer. But she told Sammy she would return to Haddonfield to be close to Michael and rebuild the surviving relationship they still shared. This comforted Sammy knowing he would not be abandoned again.

In a way she still harbored feelings of blame for what had happened on Halloween. Laurie's involvement and Michael's escape as well as not seeing Judith for what she was racked Sammy with the burden of unacceptable decisions and mistakes.

Now life would go on as it should, leaving this strange and unforgettable chapter to close. Sammy was allowed to visit Michael one last time before she left. He was still in segregation but Klein told her he had not fashioned one mask since his return. Instead he read.

So Sammy brought some books to give him and another collection of music.

When she entered the familiar visitation room Michael was already there, chained as expected and his back to her. She could see his hair, while still long, was more kempt and as she walked around him, it was brushed off to the side leaving half of his face exposed. He still had a beard but it was trimmed short and Sammy found herself thinking it suited him.

Michael turned his head when she came around. One thing that had not changed was his dilated, gaping pupils. They still looked like twin black holes into some abyss where light had never dwelt.

As she sat down, choosing a chair closer than any she had dared before, Sammy tried to give him a modest smile. Putting the books on the table she took her time to speak.

"I hear you have new interests nowadays." She found it harder to look into his direct gaze and flitted her eyes away to the floor then her hands.

Letting herself fall back into their old method of her speaking, asking questions that he knew she wouldn't demand answers to and even joking about his not having to endure the food much longer here. Klein had told her that there was a possibility of treating his mydriasis through surgery and she elaborated on the difference that could make for him.

Sammy felt that this, being near him, was something she had come to be dependant on. Not like a drug but as a purpose. Her feelings for him however had come completely separate. Not grown from a morbid fascination of his alleged past. It had come in the quiet, personal times she had been able to experience him as a person. As she had had time to think about it she realized there was far more to him than she had come to know and it was naive of her to think that she might...love him...on the shallow surface she had seen.

There was a quiet break but the clinking of the chain against the chair. Michael could and had talked, even to others but very frugally. Sammy found herself somewhat thankful for his familiar muteness now, she had come to be comfortable with it.

Until he did speak.

"Loomis." he said quietly.

It didn't surprise her, but it did jolt her like a shot of electricity.

There was no immediate following of a comment and Sammy was grateful for that because just hearing him say her name made her have to close her eyes and try to latch onto all of her rationalizations and sensible conclusions.

"Michael, as long as we've known each other, I think you can call me Samantha or Sammy by now. You're my best friend aren't you? I suppose I could start calling you Myers if you insist…" she rambled only to have him speak again.

"Sam."

He had more confidence behind his pronunciations than when they had spoken last in his old house.

There was no where else for her to look and Michael leaned forward, one uncovered eye drawing both of hers mercilessly.

"Thank you." he offered something she had never thought him capable of, gratitude and humility.

Traits unbecoming of a monster.

She could feel the flush of blood burning her cheeks and she stumbled for anything to say to him, her bottom lip twitching.

Finally she nodded and smiled again, "You had the choice and you were capable of making it any time. You just had to be ready. It must have been a daily torture, keeping the secret you did for so long."

"Tried to accept it, believe it. For Boo." he said.

It was all she could do to not be distracted at his tone and the shape of the air he fashioned into sensible sound. The way it gave natural expression to his face that she wanted always to remember.

"I'm glad you failed." She wondered if she should have said that, "Suffocating yourself into a lie, there would be no valor in that. As much as you love your sister, you have to live truth first. For yourself."

Now who sounded like the psychopath? She would be laughed out of her career before it even started if she said any such nonsense to a patient.

But he considered her with a gravity in his eyes that pulled at everything around them. She could tell he was still in a habit of a false confession that had been imprinted from years of repetition. It would take some time to truly embrace his reality.

"Michael, I think you need to say it. That you're innocent. Say it to yourself everyday." she advised him softly.

Now it was he that could not hold his eyes to hers and let them stare off through her, "Never killed anyone...them, Mom, Steven, Ronnie, Wesley, that nurse."

He was like a little boy again, seeing something indescribable and scarring. But it shored up his posture and the slump in his spine straightened, the curve of his shoulders leveled and his jaw set forward solidly.

And Sammy was proud of him. She realized he  _was_  the acception all along. No one left Smith's Grove for it was a final cage for the terminally insane. But Michael would walk out of here one day soon. And he had thanked her for what little she felt she had contributed to the miracle.

He spoke no more than a handful of words after that but Sammy was satisfied. She may be leaving a part of her chained to him that she would never get back but this was where it belonged.

So when the phone call came almost four years later Sammy found herself dropping down at her small desk in the british psychiatric hospital while the voice on the other line spoke smoothly.

It was Dr. Klein who inquired after her casually and seemed pleased at her progress in her final months of residency. He asked if she had plans for her future such as private practice or to stay on where she was. If she had, Sammy had gone completely blank, shelved memories falling down upon her, bringing with it dusty emotions.

Klein then asked if she would be interested in doing a fellowship at Smith's Grove and after taking up a co-director position permanently.

As graciously as a knee-jerk reaction could reply, Sammy laughed and thanked him but declined. He sounded remotely disappointed and they wished each other well and hung up.

Sammy's eyes lifted up to a white, miniature rose studded mask that, ironically, hung on her wall.

Five minutes later her shaking fingers couldn't call back quick enough and she meekly inquired if the offer still stood.

Her parents still resided in New York to state and Sammy justified her wanting to be closer to them. Klein had required no explanation but agreed wholeheartedly of the benefits of her return. He spoke nothing of the Myers' or what had happened.

Sammy had had fairly regular correspondence with Laurie for the first two years but as sometimes long distances can fade even strong bonds, it had been some time since she had heard much from the girl. She was to have graduated in accounting just the past spring and a year or so prior was excited that Michael would be getting out earlier than planned and sent a somewhat blurred picture of the two of them sitting on a couch somewhere.

It struck Sammy so similar to the picture she had seen of the two of them as children although Michael's smile looked unpracticed and a little goofy. The fact that he was smiling brought a fulfillment Sammy had never enjoyed in her life that she could remember, and even some tears. Laurie did not post on Facebook any longer per advice of lawyers and counselors for their high profile family was again drew a lot of attention, much of it unwanted.

The emails almost stopped after that and Sammy tried not to make a nuisance of herself or take it as a hint that she was no longer an interest of either. She had too many things to focus on herself. Making a life for herself in England and excelling in her field. She also filled in her social schedule with new friends and even some relationships but held her career in the highest of priorities. Sometimes when it was late and she had sent whomever home feeling ill contented, Sammy wondered if some part of her was still bruised from the experience. Too tender to completely try again.

Now she was to report back to Smith's Grove on the 27th of October which Sammy physically flinched at and had more than one small panic attack at the thought. But she was one to challenge herself and a firm believer in desensitory therapy.

Klein had also told her the hospital put on a Halloween party of its own now in collaboration with the city festival; inviting the public to come and support the institution and patients. She would be arriving on the day it was happening and if she could dress up in costume it would help the spirit of the event. Sammy was truly surprised at hearing this, after the horrible things that happened was it inappropriate?

But she decided to see for herself.

She had never invested in a new costume and so the day came, after finding another apartment and settling in again, Sammy dressed up as an Ewok and drove the secluded highway to the hospital.

Pumpkins lined the driveway and the sign was hung with spiderwebs. They even had dummies dressed in bathrobes climbing over the fence and Sammy scolded herself for smiling at it.

Biting her lip she drove cautiously for she saw people, sometimes real and wandering, sometimes sheets meant to look like ghosts hanging in the shedding trees.

Her apprehension of returning skyrocketed when she saw the building creep from the trees in front of her. There was no logical reason to have come back here!

But she did not turn around, her curiosity and tendency to ignore that voice of warning had never been heeded before, why start now?

An orderly pointed her to a parking spot as most of the lot was full. Small children dressed as zombies or cute animals, clowns and princesses skipped excitedly with plastic pumpkins baskets for candy. Sammy had to stop as she got out of her car when she saw a little boy dressed as a viking and his friend wore small overalls and a white mask. Escorting parents looked unbothered and might as well been at a neighborhood park.

Sammy put some black eyeliner on her nose and adjusted her furry gloves and ears before walking towards the entryway. Before she could put a hand to the door Dr. Klein came out dressed in his regular button up shirt, tie and slacks.

Scowling at him he made no sign of embarrassment or amusement at not wearing a costume of his own. He welcomed her back and instead of letting her inside began to walk towards the grounds where the crowd was migrating. There were game booths set up, a hay bale maze, and a pumpkin patch that was crowded with happy attendees. Sammy began to see patients and staff she recognised. Cherry and Lacey came over to her from a face painting stall and Sammy received a very aggressive hug from both. They all headed together to a large area fenced by tarp walls and tents. Screams and shouts floated out from the inside and Sammy realized what it was before she saw the sign.

'The Haunted Forest'.

A spook alley. Klein must have seen the obvious twist in her face and he said, "It was the patient's idea. Only our level 1's can participate and we highly regulate it. It's raised quite a sum of money the last two years."

"Risky if you ask me." Sammy said.

And Klein smiled, "It seems we've swapped positions haven't we? I remember telling you the same thing often. I doubt we will do it every year but I am confident in our precautions."

Lacey was petting Sammy's fake fur like she was a dog, "Miss Loomis…"

"It's Doctor." Put in Cherry.

"Nearly." Smiled Sammy.

Lacey looked confused but then reverted back to her childlike excitement, "You have to go through! You won't die."

Sammy started to shake her head but looked at all the expectant faces. Then she shrugged and let a full grin lift her cheeks and wrinkle her nose.

"Alright! Let's go!"

Cherry forwent the invitation saying she had already enjoyed the experience but Lacey and Klein seemed ready enough and they entered.

As haunted houses went, it was decent enough but the fact that these were true, diagnosed psychopaths and likely murderers definitely added to the tension. Sammy found herself shoved in front as they went through different, typically themed areas and she was glad it was still light. She screamed at a man who charged at her crouched over on his hands like a gorilla with smeared makeup on but when he got close to her he stopped and straightened. It was Niall! Breaking his character he began to tell her everything that had happened to him that day including which hallways he had passed through and the geography of the eggs, bacon and toast of his breakfast plate. To him he may have thought she had never left and was just having another daily conversation until a pack of teenagers came behind Sammy and her group and instantly Niall was back on the ground growling and leaping at them like a rabid dog.

The next area was in a darkened tent of a demented circus theme and there were evil clowns bouncing about laughing maniacally as they chased the teenagers out. Sammy hated clowns as she was sure most of the population of the western world did and she paused to let Klein go first when she realized neither he nor Lacey were with her anymore. Turning to go back to see where they had been held up a large clown loomed over her, blocking her retreat and he leaned in closely with wide eyes and a painted mouth full of serrated teeth.

And so Sammy hustled her way through, plugging her ears and squinting her eyes to deaden the sensory input. She ducked through a torn sheet into another area which had been staged to look like a junk yard. A dull buzzing noise made her unplug her ears only for it to amplify to what she knew to be a chain saw.

She hated the chain saw guy!

But she didn't see him or anyone so she hoped he was chasing the teenagers and she could slip by. She edged along the side peering between some old cars and a large garbage dumpster when the sound stopped. Sammy felt this was worse than being able to hear how close it was and she hurried her steps when a shriek came from her right and across the way ran two women and on their heels was the masked man in torn clothes. He pull started the power tool as he corralled the girls into a corner where Sammy couldn't see their faces. But they screamed, ducking and trying to get around him.

At least he was doing a good job of scaring them and even better he was distracted so Sammy started to make a break for the tarp fence where she assumed the exit was. Of course she watched out of the corner of her eye and saw the man swing the chainsaw where he had the girls in a corner and to Sammy's shock and horror, their heads flew from their bodies. She couldn't keep a scream of her own locked in her throat and it made the chainsawer swing around to her and charge. He was fast and Sammy barely had a chance to reach the last car between her and the exit before she felt the rush of wind and the heavy footsteps just behind her. She dropped and rolled under the car still screaming at the top of her lungs, unable to deal with what she had just seen.

But the sound of the motor ceased suddenly and Sammy could see the boots stop just next to her and she realized her bear-eared hood had fallen off in her hurry. The chainsaw was sat down and a dirty had picked up the hood then the man fell to his knees.

There was something familiar about all of this.

When a face dipped to the ground it had no mask and Sammy instantly recognised him. The tousled, dirty-blonde hair and the scruff on his jaws. The slant of his forehead and cheekbones that housed those dark eyes. But they were not so black now. The silvery glint of watery blue had reclaimed much of the territory but it didn't seem to dull their intensity.

Michael Myers stared at her, one side of his face pressed to the ground opposite of hers, unbelieving and searching.

"Sam?" he ventured.

All she could do is blink, a hand pressed up against her mouth.

With gentle concern he put a hand out to her, "I-I didn't know it was you."

His hand hung suspended for a moment then Michael tried again, "It's all pretend, come out please?"

Sammy slowly reached for his hand and it flexed to anchor her as she started to inch her way out. With leaves caught in the net of her hair and dirt all over her front, Sammy crawled from under the car where she was gently hauled to her feet.

"You ok?" Michael asked a little bewildered just before the joyful squeal rang through the air.

"Sammy!"

Two girls, the two that had lost their heads came running over carrying mannequin heads in their arms. Laurie Strode didn't hold up and pulled Sammy into a tight hug.

"You came! I'm so glad!"

Having stepped back out of the way Michael was frowning, "You knew...? Why didn't you..."

Laurie pulled back to look at her brother, "Oh Michael it was a surprise!"

The other girl, Sammy realized in her daze as her heart rate was stabilizing, was Annie Brackett. The pretty girl looked quite different without blood all over her but Sammy could see a few light scars that marred her skin.

Laurie gave Sammy another hug and grinned, "He would have never consented if he'd have known. He can be kind of a stick in the mud sometimes…"

Then Annie chimed in, "I don't know, I think she looks like she's going to pass out!"

Awkwardly Myers shifted his weight, "I'm really sorry…"

"I uh," Sammy licked her lips, "I think I  _might_  actually pass out. You scared me to the point of a breakdown!" She lectured them with a stern face, "But I suppose that if I was to lose my mind there's nowhere else I'd rather do it."

She couldn't help but smile and Laurie squeezed her again. Michael looked relieved.

There had been other groups pass through as they stood there looking at them curiously but passing through unharassed.

Now a posse of boys had appeared and were loudly complaining of the 'serious lamness' of this part of the spook alley. Laurie turned to Michael and patted his arm.

"Go get 'em." she winked at him.

With a quick glance at Sammy, Michael half smiled and bent to pick up the mask he had been wearing. Sammy could see it was made not of plastic or paper but of metal. The features were disturbingly distorted and it gave Sammy chills as he doned it then picked up the chainsaw which she could of course see now lacked its chain.

With a quick rip to the chord it roared to life and he started after the boys in a slow and foreboding walk. Somehow he managed to block their way out and had them all singing a different tune before they were allowed to leave. One looked as though he had peed his pants.

Sammy was glad she hadn't.

"My brother the psycho." Laurie shook her head, "He's a sick man."

The girls left Michael to carry on and they exited the spook alley. Laurie was explaining that she and Annie were part of the show and having their false heads lopped off added to the tone.

It was somewhat difficult for Sammy to understand how, out of anyone, Laurie and Michael could even make light of all of this. Didn't it bring back terrible memories? Sammy felt a bit ashamed at her unspoken ridicule, if they had moved on it was a good thing. Besides, she knew that Michael loved Halloween. Now that she thought about it, it had been fun.

They spent some time sitting under a tree and talking. Laurie worked at an accounting firm locally and she and Michael volunteered here at Smith's Grove once a week.

Dr. Klein came to find Sammy and take her inside for an orientation of sorts. Sammy scolded him for his part in all of this which he bore with only a smirk.

After walking the old halls of Smith's again, Sammy realized that she could do this. She wasn't completely sure before. But in a way it felt like home to her. One thing that would take some adjustment was that Conner was there, even residing in Michael's old room. Klein assured Sammy that she would not have to have any contact with him even though they'd had no trouble in handling him. Michael even came to visit Conner, it seemed to keep Conner in check.

At the end of the day they went back out to the festivities and found the haunted house had closed and a couple of bonfires were started after the patients were returned to their rooms.

Gathered around the warmth, Sammy, Laurie, Annie and Michael talked and they were joined by Annie's father who had some white and blue paint on his face.

"The scary clown was you Sheriff Brackett?!" Sammy was astounded.

The man nodded slowly, stern in the firelight, "Well someone's got to keep an eye on the nuts around here. Besides when Mike asked me to be a part of this I was skeptical of it at first, but I think this town needed something like this to move on."

Laurie grinned at Michael who had stood quietly for the most part across the fire from Sammy, "You and Michael are really good friends now aren't you Mr. Brackett?"

Brackett sighed, "When a man's paid his debt, who am I to hold a grudge. Besides, he saved my baby's life didn't he? You just better watch it with the speed limits Myers."

Annie stomped her feet for the cold and laughed, "Such a softy dad! So can I date him now?"

"Not on your life…" came the instant reply which brought a laugh from everyone except Michael who just shook his head but caught Sammy's eye over the glow of the fire.

Raising an eyebrow Sammy leaned over to Annie and asked, "Are you all patients here now?"

This drew another burst of laughter, even from Michael and Sammy loved to see it. She also noticed he only kept his hair long on top and the sides and back shaved. Once she thought she saw the mark from where the bullet had been taken from his skin on the side of his head.

It was dark when the last of the guests had left and everything was cleaned up. The siblings lived in a house, a different house in a newer part of town and Laurie mentioned that they were having a quiet Halloween movie night. She insisted Sammy come.

It sounded fun and Sammy said she would. They asked where she lived and found out it was less than two blocks away from where Michael now worked at an auto mechanic and welding shop. Laurie showed Sammy a small silver necklace he'd made for her, an abstraction of an angel.

He hadn't spoken much the whole time but now Michael offered to give her a ride to their house if she wanted him to pick her up after work.

"It's cold so wear a jacket, long pants and no heels." Laurie advised as she and Michael got in Laurie's car to go.

Feeling instantly at home as she worked the next few days at the hospital solidly, Sammy knew she had made the right decision. She worked her sessions with the patients and she and Klein had already had their first row about some policies they disagreed on by the time Halloween came.

After getting home and spending an unjustifiable amount of time getting ready, Sammy decided to just walk the two blocks and meet Michael at his work instead of waiting for him at her apartement. The streets of the quaint little town were covered in the molted, dry leaves that roamed over the sidewalks and caught in every nook and crevice.

When Sammy got to the mechanic's, she was directed to the garage to find Michael. She had to recognise him by his tall frame for he had a welding mask on. Some things would never change.

He looked surprised but happy to see her if not a little, charmingly shy.

It was only a couple minutes until the hour but Michael's boss just grinned and told him to go.

"Have a good time Audrey!" was shouted after them as they left.

Michael just shook his head and rolled his eyes and Sammy laughed, "They call you Audrey? Your middle name?"

"They're just messing around." Michael said as they passed through the parking lot and Sammy thought of how normal he acted. Like he was a normal guy who had always had a normal life.

They stopped next to a black and orange detailed Honda Blackbird motorcycle and Sammy let out a short laugh.

"A bike?"

Michael took one of two helmets that were strapped to the seat, "Yeah, I like being out in the open. I'm still sort of claustrophobic. You ok to ride?"

"Are you a good driver?" She teased as he offered the helmet to her.

With a shrug he gave another half-hitched smile, "One good thing about extreme reflexes, it makes 100 feel like 30."

"I don't know about 100…" Sammy slid the helmet on and fumbled with the chin strap.

Michael had put his own on, turned and he picked up the bike carefully, flipping it around. Sammy wondered how much it weighed but then remembered who was lifting it.

He noticed her struggling to latch her strap and he said, "Here, let me get that? I promise I won't go 100."

It was quite a turnaround, for once he was the one tightening the binding. He had come a long way in four years.

"Not too tight." She couldn't help it, "I still have some anxiety over...having something around my neck."

Nothing had been said of that night and Sammy had not wanted to be the one to bring it up but it was too late. Michael glanced up at her and dropped his hands although it felt as though the strap was fastened sufficiently.

"That's the one thing I can't get past. I...came for you…but..." Maybe it was the tilt of his head and the drop of his gaze but his pupils seemed to enlarge.

Quickly Sammy grabbed his hand before thinking, "Michael, I know you would have somehow. You always come back. I didn't fully understand what was happening but I knew...you. I should apologize for not realizing you were the one looking out for Laurie...and me in the first place."

He was looking at her hand on his and then looked back up at her. The thought to take hers back only fleetingly crossed her mind but she hesitated for some reason. Slowly he turned his into hers and held it.

Years of Sammy withholding any feelings she thought she may have had for him or explaining them away broke wide open. She, Samantha Loomis was in love with Michael Myers and there was no denying it any longer.

The light in his iris crowded in, shrinking the dark again and Michael's cheeks lifted just barely, the helmet hiding his smile. Then he let go of her hand and snapped her visor shut. Turning to the bike he got on, started the engine and flipped out the foot rests for her.

Awkwardly she slid on behind him and was about ask if she could hold onto him and he let the bike hop forward a bit. Immediately she grabbed around his waist and she thought she could hear a low chuckle before he shut his own helmet and started to roll out of the parking lot.

They arrived at the Myers' house shortly after and Sammy was scolding him for his speed and Michael just looked innocently at her, "You didn't say anything about 99…"

That Halloween was what Sammy imagined one should be like. Sitting in a comfortable couch in the dark with friends watching a safe, unreal scarey movie in a warm house. Kids ringing the doorbell for treats...and to get a glimpse of the real boogeyman who mowed his lawn every Friday, would play soccer with them and every now and again jump out of the bushes at them.

The night was low key and Sammy found herself not wanting to go home when most left around 3am.

But Michael took her, walking her to her door and he gave her a tight hug before she went in. She found a handful of root beer taffies in her jacket pocket.

It wasn't for another week before Sammy and he got another chance to be alone.

He took her to the woods behind his old house that had been demolished and a small park was built there in it's place.

The butter yellow leaves covered the woodland floor and floated down a little stream which chanted airy rhymes as it ran beside them. Their odd conversation turned to Judith for the first time and Michael told her they'd cremated the body and scattered her ashes over the ocean.

"Maybe she'll find some peace there." Michael sighed.

It didn't surprise Sammy when he took her hand in his.

Sammy then said, "If I hadn't come back, I'd have never seen you again."

He stopped on the trail and turned to her.

"I don't know, I had a plan that when I had gotten enough money, and wasn't such a weirdo, I'd come over and get myself committed to your hospital if I had to." he grinned.

Shaking her head at him Sammy smiled back, "I don't want to be your shrink Michael."

Pulling her close he bent his head down to hers and put his warm hands on either side of her face.

"How about my best friend…" and he managed a wink.

Sammy brushed her lips on his softly and then said, "Or?"

"...The only girl I've wanted for 5 years?"

Leaning away to eye him skeptically, Sammy asked, "5 years? Annie says you've had a few girl friends…"

"Well I've had a lot of growing up to do. Had to get some practice for this…" he said confidently bringing her back to him and kissing her for quite some time.

Light headed, Sammy nodded after they had broken apart, "Lessons well learned…"

She brushed her thumb lightly over the bullet scar in his scalp and he smiled again.

"Well we better get back, Laurie's making brownies. I told her to put mayonnaise in it cause it's your favorite…"

Sammy pushed him back and he laughed then jumped at her and scooped her up, turned and ran back through the woods.


End file.
